Rescued
by singedbylife
Summary: Takes place 9 years after As5. Spike was captured during the battle in LA and has been trapped in a demon brothel ever since. When Xander finds out, he decides to help. Extremely dark and horrible abuse. Things will become better. M/M. This was my first Buffy fanfic. Nominated at Sunnydale Memorial Awards. Won at the White Knight's Awards. I love feedback. 18 chapters in total.
1. Chapter 1

There were two of them this time.

Humans both of them. A guy of medium build, the other one of similar height but weighing at least 100 pounds more.

Greasy t-shirts, leather vests, cowboy boots. A faint smell of gasoline and motor oil. Typical bikers or truck drivers.

The fat one kept his sparse hair tied back in a thin ponytail trailing down his broad back. The other man's hair was trimmed short in a burr. The latter had something looking like a Hulibee Beard going on but not quite achieving the look so far. Tattoos of flaming hearts, names, skulls, and the bleeding _Ghost Rider_ and the like covered their arms. How very original.

The fat one behind him pulled Spike's head back grabbing onto his hair. Spike clenched his jaw trying hard not to make a sound. He hated it when tossers like these made him wince or cry out even though it was very hard not to. The man's other hand was already busy jabbing two thick fingers up into him, roughly scissoring and stretching him painfully. Spike couldn't help but whimper pathetically at the stinging, tearing sensation. Christ, _it hurt!_

Every day he came to, tight as a newborn babe. Every day, each rape hurt just as much as the ones the day before.

"Nnngh," he moaned through clenched teeth, in futile protest between the pants, and painful sounding gasps, which he now had to make in order to somehow be able to bear the assault. Three thick fingers were inside him now, curling, and stretching and damaging him, making him bleed. _God, it hurt so much!_ He arched his back uselessly trying to escape the pain.

The man in front of him had climbed the three steps and stood near his head.

"You ready yet, Carl?" he asked while he undid his fly and pulled down his jeans.

"Almost," came the grunted reply. Carl continued jabbing and stretching a bit. Then he finally pulled out his fat fingers from Spike's arse and began fisting himself, getting ready to push his cock hard into Spike's abused and bleeding hole. Getting ready for the two of them to start their small agreed mini gang bang rape.

Nothing like going for synchronization and timed orgasms, when you were raping in tandem. Spike swallowed and closed his eyes, trying to get himself ready as well.

"That's good," the man in front of Spike replied, licking his lips. Impatiently, he slapped Spike's face.

"Look at me, creep," he said. Spike opened his eyes.

"This is gonna be good, isn't it, you filthy little slut? You gonna suck me good, ain't you, bitch?"

Spike didn't reply, only kept peering warily at the man. His head was still pulled back tight by Carl.

"Carl, let go of its head, man. I want that blow job now."

The man grabbed hold of Spike's shoulders to get into position and Spike couldn't help but cry out. His shoulders _hurt!_ The guy's dick hung dangling in front of his face but Spike couldn't reach it with his mouth because the wanker, Carl, still hadn't let go of his hair.

The slapping sound of Carl trying to get his dick up and ready continued behind Spike's back. Sounded like Carl was becoming frantic. In fact, sounded like Carl had a bit of a problem. Probably had one too many beers in order to do the job.

Spike sighed wearily at the thought. The humans who came to use him often did. Trying to drink up enough courage all evening before they got up and went to get what they'd paid for; meeting an actual vampire and fuck it. It meant that they would often be too sodding drunk to just be quick about it. Instead, they would fool around, humiliate him, piss on him. Or use the toys on the shelves clumsily and wrong and very painfully.

Right now, Carl here reeked of beers, and the kind of animalistic repelling lust that brain deficient human males got when they would get together in a group in front of a lone, naked victim.

The kind of lust that made them attack as a pack. That made them assault and rape and most times, kill the defenseless victim. Never caring for pleas for mercy. Never stopping.

 _That_ was the kind of lust that Carl stank of. The same kind rolled off Carl's raping fuck buddy.

It was going to be a long day.


	2. Chapter 2

As Xander came closer to the old, abandoned factory building, his nostrils were met by a myriad of unpleasant smells. Turpentine, fungus, left over garbage, some poor animal lying drowned and rotting under an open manhole cover. And a familiar but no less unpleasant scent: demon goo.

He'd went by Amtrak from Boston to Philadelphia's 30th Street Station. Wouldn't do to use his car. Then he'd grabbed a cab outside the train station and continued across the Delaware to the depressing industrial grounds of Philadelphia's neighboring city. The cab driver had dropped him off, warning him about the area. Although, when eyeing Xander a bit closer, he'd decided to shut his mouth. Xander had smiled reassuringly, shrugged and handed him his payment. As soon as Xander was out of the car, the cab driver hadn't hesitated to turn his car around and speed off to get back to the approximate safety of the City of Brotherly Love.

Xander had continued on foot the rest of the way. He was in Campden, New Jersey.

He wrinkled his nose and sniffed a little to get used to the smells. The surroundings were spooky and unsettling. Old deserted factory sites tended to be that way late at night and Campden's wasn't an exception. The building he was about to enter was an old ramshackle warehouse. He'd gotten the address from one of his few demon acquaintances.

When they'd originally begun searching for Spike, Willow hadn't been able to tell exactly where Spike was being held but she'd been able to make an educated guess based on the signal she'd caught, indicating that he would be somewhere close to this area. Once they'd gotten the only address that seemed right, based on information about what kind of activities were taking place in this address, they'd begun making their plan to rescue Spike. Willow had even flown over to visit Xander in Boston for a couple of days in order to get everything ready and under control. She couldn't stay, though. Too much work to do back at HQ in London. But it would be early morning in London and she'd be ready to do her part. This was their agreed time for engaging Mission _Rescue the Vamp and Retreat_.

When Xander had initially been told that Spike didn't die in the Hellmouth, he' d been angry. He'd felt cheated. Anya had died. Why had Spike been the one to come out of it unharmed? Of course by then, he'd also been told and believed that Spike had died a second time (or was it a third time?) during some big battle in LA. A battle during which, Angel had perished as well.

Then… well, years had gone by since then and Xander had grown up. Things had changed. _He_ had changed. Buffy had stayed in Europe, eventually marrying a European guy. She'd seemed genuinely happy the last time he had seen her. That had been five years ago. They didn't stay in touch much. Just the obligatory text message of a Christmas Greeting or a ditto Happy Birthday wish. Willow had become involved with the coven in England and was now working full time at the new Watchers' Council. Giles had passed away last year. Heart attack.

Dawn was back in California. She had finished college and was working in one of LA's bigger art galleries. They weren't in contact, though. Willow had told him.

As for Xander, well… those first years after the Hellmouth, Xander'd gone along with the rest of the Scoobies. He'd traveled to Europe, eventually accepted the challenging job of going to Africa to help the council find new slayers. And to begin with it had been exciting. And it had kept him busy, _very_ busy, and helped him move on after losing Anya.

But after three years, he had grown weary of the whole deal. He was risking his life, getting beaten up by demons and having to deal with demonstrative, teenage Slayers. It was crazy! He was a _building constructor_ for Pete's sake, not some magical supernatural being or a studious watcher. He'd made his decision and left the council on short notice, much to Giles' dismay and moved back to the States. Not to California this time. Instead, he'd decided to try out something new, make a fresh start. He'd found a nice apartment in Boston. It wasn't big but it was comfy. The Council had paid the down payment. Giles had made sure of that, despite the fact that he'd still been rather disappointed with Xander's choice of leaving. Xander had found a job in a small construction company, and his boss and co-workers were okay. He'd lived there for a little over seven years, now. He hadn't made any new close friends but every now and then, he would go out for a round of pool or a couple of beers with some of the guys from work.

He hadn't fallen in love with anyone since Anya. He'd had a couple of short lived affairs over the years and discovered a few new truths about himself, but nothing serious had come out of it. He couldn't figure out if it was his own fault or not. Perhaps he hadn't shared enough of his past or invested enough of his emotions for the relationships to work. He hadn't really wanted to that's for sure. And he probably could have been more attentive when they in turn had tried to open up and share their thoughts and feelings with him. Maybe they just hadn't been right for him. Besides, he still had time. He wasn't even thirty-two yet. And so what if he was lonely most of the time? He didn't regret his decision. He would have been lonely _and_ risking his life, had he stayed in Africa.

When Willow had called, shortly after Xander had moved back to the States and told Xander about how Spike had come back alive after burning in the Hellmouth and about how he'd gotten involved with Angel in LA and died again, those events had already taken place years ago. Xander's feelings had been mixed. Mostly he'd felt upset. Angry at Spike and sort of angry at Willow too, for not telling him sooner. She couldn't explain why she hadn't, only that she'd meant to do it for a long time. She hadn't wanted to tell Buffy. It would only upset her and Buffy didn't need that but Willow felt she just needed to tell _someone_.

After that telephone call, Xander had begun thinking more and more about the anomaly that was Spike. Had thought a lot about him, in fact. Had even gradually come to the conclusion that he kinda regretted not getting on friendlier terms with the vampire, while he'd had the opportunity. Spike was an ass but Xander had to admit there was so much more to Spike than just that. And then, last month, Willow's call had been about Spike again. This time, her news concerned Spike's death once more.

She'd been doing some work on a new kind of locator spell, where she was trying to get in contact with entities from other dimensions in order to learn more about said dimensions. During her research, she had thought of Spike. Not that she wanted to bring him back, of course. She'd learned _that_ lesson, after all. No, she'd merely wanted to see if she would be able to locate an actual hell dimension via Spike's spiritual remains because maybe, who knew, one day that might come in handy. And if she succeeded, she'd figured that Spike, being a champion, would make the attempt safer for her, meaning that she probably wouldn't risk getting a hellish lash back. She'd waved a bit back and forth in her typical Willowy style but Xander had gathered that she'd used Spike as a sort of concentration point. She hadn't succeeded. Which was to say, she hadn't managed to get in contact with an actual hell dimension. But she _had_ found a signal belonging to Spike. Only, as it turned out, he was not in some spiritual state at all but right here in the US. To cut a long story short, Spike was still very much undead.

The idea of Spike being around again had triggered something inside Xander and he'd been quick to suggest that they find him and contact him. But when it became clear that Spike's signal always showed up in the exact same location, Xander had been the one to guess that something was wrong. Someone or something had to be keeping Spike captive because the Spike, he knew, would never stay in the same spot day in and day out. He was far too restless for that. Willow had agreed. And then they'd gone to work. Which was how he'd ended up here. Standing in an empty street in the middle of the night in front of a building rumored to be a Demon's Brothel. 


	3. Chapter 3

Spike ached. Inside and outside.

He was never not in pain, couldn't rightly remember how it felt like not to be in pain.

In fact, his entire existence was measured up by nothing but various degrees of pain.

Right now he was visited by the familiar pain from slashes healing on his backside. That particular pain had been keeping him busy since his last feeding.

It could have been worse, though. His time could have been spent in the more unpleasant company of pain from shattered bones. Or pain from flayed off skin. Or pain from being buggered bloody by a huge dildo or cock.

No, this kind of pain, the mending one, wasn't the worst of his constant companions. And it was hardly the first time a client had used the thin rattan cane on his back and buttocks. When wielded correctly, it was excruciating. When used by an amateur such as the last one, he was able to handle the strokes better. Besides, it could have been the bull whip. Or the cat of nine tails. Or the thin spiked metal chain and _that_ hurt like hell no matter how skilled, the wielder was.

Of course, it didn't make a lot of difference when the cane was put to use the way it had been. The client had been big and inhumanly strong and he had been whipping Spike's back for a long time before finally grunting something unintelligible and ejaculating his yolk-like, smelly cum all over Spike's bleeding back. Spike had counted that a blessing... After all, no matter how foul the jizz was or how much it stung as it ran down his damaged back, blending in with the rivulets of blood trickling down his bum and thighs, it would have been much worse had the client wanted to come inside him. All Fyarl demons were huge but this one had been bloody gigantic.

Torture, rape, and pain. Nothing but torture, rape, and pain.

It was a wonder he hadn't gone insane long ago.

 _Why hadn't he_?

It would be such bliss not to know what was being done to him. Not to constantly be aware of the sexual abuse and the torment which took place every bleeding day and night for all he knew. It was hard to tell the time. Hard to guess at how many years he'd been held prisoner and hard to tell whether the sun was up or down. He'd lost track of everything. All he knew was that he had been stuck here since the final battle in LA… which had to be ages ago.

Another sorry fact was that he was never given any true rest. He was never allowed to lie down. Never able to truly mend, never able to stretch his aching limbs or rest his weary back, never able to forget for even a second that he was reduced to being nothing but a fuck toy…

 _Never a kind word, or a gentle touch, or a caring look, the tiniest bit of comfort, never …_

A tremble coursed through his pale, thin frame and tears of frustration and self-pity began to fill his eyes. A sob worked its way up his abused throat and _fuck!_ It hurt! His throat was burning with its intensity. The useless crying hurt his neck, and his long dead lungs, and bawling his eyes out wouldn't help him, wouldn't change a damn thing besides making him hurt all the more!

Closing his eyes hard and clenching his jaw, he managed to prevent the next sob from erupting. He breathed in through his nose, long and hard but not _too_ hard, 'cause that hurt, too. Finally, he managed to gain a little control and he opened his mouth, licked his chapped lips and breathed in and out in a measured steady pace. The exercise helped. _There, all better now_. Just the dull pain left to keep him upset, that's all. He was used to that. Pain was tangible and he could deal with it. Most of the time. His stupid _thinking_ on the other hand was not that easy to control. Didn't do to think too much. Just focus on the pain.

Slowly, he lifted his head and looked at the dark surroundings. They had been the same for what seemed an eternity. Tall dark cement walls painted a dark red. The tile floor with a drain in the middle. No windows. Two lamps hanging down suspended from the ceiling high above him, casting a yellow garish light. A radiator placed near the corner keeping the room somewhat heated and next to that a long rolled up hose connected to a faucet. Behind him was the only door to his cell and a wall decorated with metal shelves containing a wide selection of whips, chains, gags, plugs, dildos and such. Anything to make a vampire hurt and anything to please a sadist's fucked-up mind.

Spike had been subjected to each and every one of those items too many times to count. Had screamed in terror and pain while being viciously raped by one or more men or demons too many times to count…

Again, those sodding tears threatened to spill. Oh, god, he couldn't take it anymore! If only he were dead. _Please, please, please_ , why couldn't he just be dead? Just like Angel, that _lucky_ son of a bitch!

He'd watched Angel dust, and Gunn die, he'd heard Illyria mourn Wesley in her detached way before she too disappeared in a blaze of fire. But he hadn't gotten to die. No, not him, not Spike. Wouldn't do if old Spike got a lucky break, now would it? No, Spike had been knocked unconscious during the battle and woken up here. Never knowing who took him or why. Besides the obvious reason, that was. Nobody had ever responded to anything he'd asked since his captivity had begun so long ago. Not like they would listen to a half breed fuck toy anyway. That's all he was to them. Him having a soul mattered bugger all to the lot of them. Down here, he was just a thing.

It'd been so hard to understand that, though. To realize for real, that they didn't think of him as a living or unliving being. That they didn't care about him or his thoughts or feelings.

He'd always been so sodding naïve.

For a man, who'd been denied any true affection his entire unlife, and, truth be told, his entire life if one discounted his mother, he really was stubbornly, stupidly naïve. Again and again, he'd tried to get recognition from the people surrounding him, from those he loved or from those who mattered to him. Whether they had been Drusilla, Angel, Buffy, the Niblet, Fred, or even the bloody _Scoobies_. His affection had never been returned, not really.

However, not until ending up here had he finally understood that the sodding Powers that Be simply didn't deem him worthy of anything and especially not of love or care. Spike was simply beneath everything...

And the worst thing was that deep down, he had always known that, felt the truth of that but he had adamantly, and foolishly refused to acknowledge it. If he had, he would have staked himself a long time ago. But now he knew. Oh god. Yes, now he knew. And it _hurt._

Maybe the PTBs would decide against all odds to give him a break and the next sick wanker who'd come in would become too agitated during Play Time an' just finally, _finally_ , snap and kill him? After all, dying and going to Hell couldn't be worse than this, could it?

Spike let his head fall back from the emotional and physical exhaustion and closed his eyes, once again trying to stifle the painful, and pitiful sobs that constantly threatened to sear his chest. The motion caused his neck and back to seize further up. His shoulders and upper neck muscles had long ago turned into rock hard knots of dull burning pain caused by the strain of vainly trying to support his body which was suspended in an upright vertical position. His arms were stretched taught outwards to his sides and above his head, keeping his upper body in a perfect Y-shape. The tight chains, hooked on to either wall around his wrists, chafed his skin, and made blood run idly down his arms in thin trickles whenever he was being fed. The rest of the time, the area was just dried out sore-looking meat.

He was positioned on his knees. His legs were spread wide and strapped to an elevated concrete platform with thick leather cuffs behind his knees and around his ankles. The platform was shaped like an angular horizontal U or rather two Ls lying down and opposing one another, enabling those who used him to step right up behind him, grab his hips, push their cocks into his torn channel and fuck him. The straps and his kneeling position made sure he didn't sway too much. That would be too much of a bother to the clients and that wouldn't do. The men could also choose to step up on the platform in front of him using the three small built in steps and have a go at his head.

He had long ago stopped fighting the rapes. Never thought of changing into game face and bite the fuckers' cocks off 'cause he had tried that, hadn't he? Didn't go well.

Sure, it had been exhilarating to spit out the rubber like piece of cock after sucking out as much blood from it as possible. Had been fun and invigorating to watch the raping wanker bleed and scream and thrash. But afterwards, it hadn't been so funny. The guards had come in. They had removed the nearly unconscious client and then proceeded to beat Spike senseless, using fists, boots and thick iron clubs.

He had woken up in the same position as ever and had barely lifted his head all the way back up before a fist connected with his chin, splitting his lip, and the first lash of a bull whip landed heavily on his battered back. They had whipped him until there wasn't a single spot left unharmed. Thankfully, he had lost consciousness in the end.

Whenever he had woken up, however, they had continued flogging him, kicking him, screaming at him. He didn't know how many days this had gone on but it had seemed to last forever. They didn't feed him and his body – thin before – had wasted away during the punishments. Then one day, ice cold water had been hurled over his unconscious body and he had come to with a yelp. A guard had grabbed his hair and pulled his head back hard and poured blood down his gasping and desperate mouth. It was not enough, not nearly enough, but it was sustenance and he couldn't help but drink it. Spilled blood had trickled down his chin and neck and he'd mourned every lost drop of it.

Another bucket of ice water had been emptied over his face and then the guard had proceeded to cut off his hair with a trimmer. It had grown long in all the time he had been held prisoner. Dark curls ending in white bleached tips lay about him as the guard unceremoniously trimmed him like he was a chained up dog on a bloody grooming table. He could only watch as the last remnants of whom he had been were swiftly swept up and thrown out in the trashcan behind him in the corner. Then the guard had left him alone.

He had cried for a long time, twisting his neck in order to stare at that trashcan before he'd passed out from sheer exhaustion.

When he woke up, the guards had returned. Five of them this time.

They had dry fucked him, first with their rusty iron clubs, then with their fists. His voice had given up trying to scream properly and had turned into a hoarse rasping helpless sound that he couldn't recognize or control. Still, it had continued to escape from his lips begging for them to _stop, please stop_. Finally, they had each and every one fucked him hard in his mouth. So yeah, he had learned his lesson. No more biting. No rest for the wicked. No rest for him. No rest, not ever.

He knew he had been in the cell for years. The guards got older, and some of them were replaced by younger ones. The way they treated him didn't change. He'd figured out of course, long ago, that he was in a demon slave brothel. The guards were mostly humans and didn't often use him. The clients were a wide array of demons and humans alike and they did. They were sent in every day. They all fucked him or abused him one way or the other and some of them liked to beat the shit out of him while they were at it.

Once every day, he was fed. A plastic cup with a straw was held up in front of him. He sucked up the cold blood as quickly as he could. Sometimes, if he wasn't quick enough, the bored guard would yank the cup away and leave him with the straw hanging in his mouth, blood dripping down onto his chest. That was bad. Meant his wounds wouldn't mend and his abuse would be all the more painful the next day. Sometimes, they simply forgot to feed him.

Spike closed his eyes. He was so bloody tired. Earlier today he had had one of his regular hose downs. He was still shivering slightly from the cold of it. He was clean but he looked and felt like hell. No one would ever mistake this place for a luxury brothel. Bruised or half dirty, he was always deemed ready for the next client. The clients didn't come here to be cuddled or lied to anyway. They just came for some violence and a quick fuck. And Spike fulfilled both of those needs. 


	4. Chapter 4

Xander squared his shoulders, and knocked on the door. When nothing happened, he turned the handle and pushed the door open.

A huge man sat attendance on a chair beside a small table just inside the room. A lamp cast a single light, leaving the rest of the room dark and gloomy. "Yeah?" the man asked while never stopping the punching of his iPhone – he was playing a war game by the sound of it. Nothing like a little virtual violence in between letting customers in to do some of the very real kind to whomever poor bastards were locked up in here. At least, Xander suspected that there were beings locked up in here but from the looks of it there weren't anybody around at all but this guy.

The air felt thick and suffocating and Xander stifled a shiver of nervous uneasiness. He could feel tiny drops of sweat protrude on his upper lip. Air-condition would have been of the good.

"Hi there," he nodded at the guard. The man didn't reply but looked at Xander with a level and somewhat blank stare. Right then. Better just get down to business.

"I've heard you have some special wares for sale. That true?" Xander asked, trying to keep his voice a shade lower than usual.

The black leather pants he wore clung uncomfortably tight to his legs and he had to shift a little to make room for his itching bulk, but he figured the gesture fit his role anyhow. He'd put on a black wife beater and a baggy loose hanging dark coat. _Deviant bad ass guy here, bro_! He narrowed his eye and looked at the man without saying anything more, knowing that the eye patch usually did the trick, making him look meaner, and more savage than he felt.

"That depends on what kind of wares you're talking about," the man replied in a one note tone. He seemed bored and not really caring one whit what so ever. He didn't even look back up at Xander from his seat.

Xander licked his lips. His mouth felt very dry.

"Well, I heard talk that you got some interesting… creatures here. The kind that you can get to fool around with if you have the right money for it."

"Yeah, we've got some _interesting creatures_ here all right," the man replied. "Not all of them are for sale, though." He wasn't showing any sign of nerves or suspicion, just stating a fact. But his confirmation meant that they had been following the right lead. So far, so good.

Xander nodded. The place was demon run so naturally not all kinds of demons were for sale. The owners probably wouldn't like to have their own kind imprisoned and rented out as whores. And the demons that frequented the brothel wouldn't want to come here if the place was full of sex slaves of their own breed. Neither would most humans.

"Great, I was getting a little tired of not being able to explore all aspects of my favorite games, if you know what I mean... Humans tend to get a little boring to play with in the long run."

Still, no reaction. Damn, he felt like a fool but he had to keep on going.

"'Sides, my kinda games seem to attract the wrong kind of attention," Xander continued. "The kind where I could end up in jail for hurting someone. Unintentionally, of course. I was told that wouldn't be a problem here?"

The guy snorted. "The Law don't really mean nothing in here if that's what you mean." He put down his phone with a sigh, got up from his chair and looked down at Xander, making it clear that the Law didn't really mean anything to him either. Xander swallowed.

"What's your name?"

"Alex Whittman," Xander replied a little too quickly. Damn.

The guard snorted again. "Right, _Alex Whittman_ ," he said in a tone clearly indicating that he might be a big dumb brute but not a total idiot. "Hands on the wall and spread out your legs."

"Hey, that really isn't ne…" Xander began but stopped before he made a bigger fool out of himself. Of course, they had to make sure he didn't carry any weapons. Neither demons nor humans did exactly well with bullet wounds in their heads or knives buried deep in their stomachs. Besides, he hadn't brought any weapons with him so he needn't worry. That was, none of the ordinary kind, of course.

The frisk was quickly over. Then he was told to remove his coat and place it on the chair and empty the pockets. Xander did so with a sinking feeling in his stomach. True, he didn't carry any concealed weapons but the contents placed on the little table next to the man's chair did appear slightly odd. There was his old wallet, emptied of ID and driver's license, a comb, a pack of gum, an unopened pack of condoms, a can of lube, and finally a shaker of salt. It was the last item which stood out and made the man raise his eyes questioningly at Xander.

Doing his best not to blush and lose his cover because he was here as a bad guy, right, Xander looked the man straight in the eyes and said "I like to sprinkle a little salt while I do my playing. Makes a good show. That a problem?"

The man looked surprised, then he laughed, and shook his head still grinning. "If that's what you like then I don't see no harm in it. To each his own, I guess," he said shaking his head, still chuckling a little. Xander's face heated but he grabbed his coat and put back his stuff in the pockets. Except the can of lube, which he stuffed down the back pocket of his pants.

"Do you have any requests? Know something about what we have in here?"

Xander felt a drop of sweat running down his forehead and into his eye patch. It was so damn hot. Sweat from his lover back ran down between his ass cheeks and he shifted again.

"Yeah, I've been told a little. And well, to hell with it. You obviously know there's more to this world than meets the eye, right?"

The man lifted his eyebrows but otherwise didn't respond. Xander continued "A long time ago, I came across a vampire. It killed my best friend. While I was watching." Actually, Xander had killed Jesse but that was beside the point. And the story was a lie anyway.

Xander continued. "I've always wanted to get up close to one of those fuckers and make them understand just how I felt about that."

The guard snorted again. "Oh, yeah. _Vamps_. Filthy bloodsucking _half breeds_. We've got those. What are you into, male or female?"

Xander's heart dropped. God, this was real, wasn't it? He was about to enter a demon brothel as a buying customer. Client. Whatever.

"I think tonight, I'm into male," he replied and slapped lightly on his back pocket containing the lube.

The man snorted and pulled his lips back in what probably amounted to a smile.

"And later, who knows?" he continued and smiled back in what he hoped looked as creepy a smile as the one the man's face. As if in afterthought, he added, "The one who killed my friend was a small guy vamp, real skinny looking. I'm thinking I'd like to meet one similar to that one. Just to get in the right mood, you know. Seems right. Do you have any that fits that description?"

"Oh, yeah, we've got just the right one for you. And it's been here for years so you won't get any trouble, playing your games with that one. It's all tamed. And you don't have to use your lube. Freak isn't used to being cuddled anyway. Let me tell ya, with vampires, it's all about blood and pain. Disgusting s'what they are. But they make for a damn good fuck. The one I'm thinking you're gonna try out has a _real_ sweet ass. And they can take just about anything you wanna do to them."

At that, the man smirked and wriggled his left eyebrow at Xander who managed to smile weakly back. His mind reeled. That son of bitch had _had_ Spike. Had been fucking him. Xander wanted to punch the creep right in the middle of his ugly, grinning face.

"Just make sure you don't kill it," the guy continued. "Bosses don't like that. S'not good for business and it won't be nice for you if something like that should to happen. Bosses don't give a shit about your personal _boohoo_ history with vamps."

Xander's heart dropped further down, his mind still spinning. Sure, he'd known Spike would be here. Willow's locator spell and all of their research had said so. He'd known what kind of place it was. Dressed for it... Still, it was something else to stand here and listen to that creepy raping asshole, realizing that Spike had spent the past nine years or more in this hellhole as an enslaved rent out whore. To know that Spike had been raped and abused by strangers in however way they wanted him for all those years.

Spike didn't deserve this. He'd gotten a soul. Had helped save the world. Sacrificed himself, for crying out loud. Him being kept prisoner here was just all kinds of wrong.

 _Spike, I swear to you, if you are in here, it won't be long now. Help is coming, pal. Help is on the way. Hang tight!_

"You listening?" The guard said irritated. "I said no staking, no chopping its head off, no fire, no maiming, no cutting and no making it drink holy water. You can fuck it, beat it, whip it, throw _salt_ into its wounds if that's what'll get you off but that's it, you get that?"

"Sure, yeah, sure," Xander replied and drew in a quick breath to steady himself, hoping it sounded like he was all good and eager and ready to get busy… hurting Spike… instead of trying not to vomit right there on top of the man's dark tennis shoes.

He looked the man straight in the eyes. "How much do I have to pay for two hours?"


	5. Chapter 5

After the money exchange, Xander was led back into the building to an old elevator. The doorman or rather, the guard had called another one on his phone and that one – a tall, lean, bearded man in his forties, gestured for Xander to follow him into the elevator car and Xander did.

It was an old elevator and the rattling car moved very slowly towards its destination somewhere below ground level. Neither of them spoke during the ride and Xander's heart was beating rapidly despite his best efforts to calm himself down. But it was damn near impossible to do so because he was terrified of what he might see, when the doors opened. And of what he was about to do. Or in the very least attempt to do. On the other hand, he was feeling weirdly excited. Almost exhilarated and he couldn't wait to get to Spike and hopefully get him the hell out of here.

The suspense was killing him.

He glanced at the man next to him, who was staring straight ahead at the elevator's closed sliding doors, looking relaxed or indifferent. Xander was anything but. His throat felt like it was closing up and he tried to clear it silently but couldn't do it. It came out a croaking cough.

When in Africa, he'd experienced some pretty intense moments but this beat them all. Xander wasn't a coward but he wasn't exactly a hero either and it'd been a long time since he'd been living the action filled life that was working around Slayers. He was completely out of practice. What if he made a stupid mistake and screwed up everything? _Please, don't let me screw up!_

The car came to a halt with a bump. So... This was it. Xander braced himself when the guard opened the door before he stepped out in what appeared to be a crowded bar room.

The first thing he noticed was that Spike wasn't here. Which was kind of a relief and a major disappointment at the same time. Xander didn't know what to expect when he actually got to meet Spike. Had no idea how a demon slave whore would be introduced to his customers. Would Spike have to offer himself to Xander somehow? God, Xander didn't hope so. Spike would likely kill him before he got a chance to explain himself. Or would Spike be kept behind a glass panel with other demons ready to be picked and used? Would he be forced to do a striptease? And if so, would he be wearing silky gauze and sequins, or tight silver hotpants or... Christ, Xander had no idea what to expect and every freaking scenario was fucking far out and downright crazy. But he had to try and prepare for anything, no matter how humiliating or dangerous it was gonna be for either of them.

The music in the room was loud and the smell of sweat was intense. There were all kinds of demons there. Fyarls, M'fashniks, Krathlaks, you name it. And, as expected, there were humans too. Most of them were dressed in gear similar to Xander's but somehow fitting it better. Which probably had something to do with the fact that they weren't faking it. These guys were not your average good Samaritans. Not by a long shot.

There weren't any women as far as Xander could see except for some bluish tainted demon girls dancing on a small elevated scene. They weren't exactly enticing unless you had a thing for sagging neck skin.

Xander scanned the room further to see if he could find Spike anywhere among the crowd. But he couldn't. In fact, as far as Xander could tell, there weren't any vampires present at all. He wasn't able to sense a vampire the way a Slayer could but he'd picked up a few tricks over the years both in Sunnydale and in Africa. He could be wrong, of course. It was always hard to tell with vamps when they weren't wearing their game faces. But no one looked oddly pale or sexy or perfect or… well, undead.

Reading the sign behind the counter saying "We only Serve Pure Breeds" made him know that his assumption was right. This wasn't a vamp friendly place at all.

He remembered Giles telling him that vampires were considered "less worthy" by a lot of so called full blooded demons. The main reason being that a vampire had to leach on to a human vessel in order to exist. You couldn't get a normal vampire without that human connection. Other demons bred with each other without problems and were therefore "pure". And that creepy guard upstairs had been referring to vampires as disgusting half breeds. So, yeah, of course Spike had to end up in a racist demon slave brothel. And the silly thing was that when it came to vampires, they were all 100 per cent pure demons no matter how they´d come to be.

Except for two, of course. And there was only one of them left now. The one he wanted to rescue.

The guard gestured with a sideways movement of his head that Xander should come along.

The bar was lit up with dim lighted lamps, the dancing scene with blue spotlights. The dull beat of techno music boomed through the room. Occasionally, some garbled demon voice was heard, hooting or shouting something at the dancing demon girls. Xander didn't understand a word but it probably meant "Let's see them hooters" or "Come to Daddy, baby" and the likes. Demons had peculiar tastes.

They eased passed the bar and into a narrow maroon colored hallway. On their way to their destination, they passed a doorway opening up to what looked like a small fighting arena with chain fixtures bolted into the floor. " _Guess the customers don't like a fair fight,_ " Xander thought. Big surprise. At the moment, the arena was empty. "No Fights Mondays thru Thursdays", a sign read.

They made a turn and arrived at another dimly lit hallway, this one a bit wider with a high ceiling. On either side of the hallway were a row of heavily bolted metal doors. Another human brothel employee sat guard at a small booth. To his right, a number of small black and white screens showed what was kept behind the metal doors.

Vampires.

Or it could be humanoid demons. All of them appeared to be half breeds and there was one occupying each cell. Most of them were females and Xander's stomach roiled at how they were lying strapped down on their backs on narrow cots. He blocked them out as his eye frantically scanned the screens for the only one of those poor creatures that he could actually save.

On the last screen, the back of a small figure was shown. His head was hanging down in front of him and Xander could only see his shoulders and arms… And his ass and his spread out legs. Oh, god! He was naked and there was no mistake. Xander knew that back.

Spike.

Xander swallowed. It was horrible to look at but he had to keep focus. Spike was here and now all Xander had to do was to go in and begin the spell and… A thought hit him which made his blood run cold. He looked at the guard sitting down.

"Hey! Are you monitoring me when I'm in there?"

If that was the case, that was so not of the good. How the hell was he gonna get the spell ready and Spike to cooperate without the guards noticing that something was up? He needed at least half an hour in order for the damn thing to work and for Willow to find out their exact location!

"Well?" he asked.

The man at the booth lifted an eyebrow and smiled an oily smile while flicking a lazy gaze towards the screens. Three of them were black at the moment.

"Nah, seen it all already. You don't have to worry. I'll turn off the screen after you enter and turn it on ten minutes before you have to leave. That way you'll know when your time's up anyway. The system makes a buzz five minutes before the camera starts filming," he drawled.

"So if you don't want to show your behind, you best hurry up a little when that happens."

Xander fought down a shudder and a feeling of dread. _Huh, yeah right, I'll bet you'll turn it off, asshole! You'll watch as much as you can, you sick, twisted pervert!_

Well, he could still do this. He had to. He cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Spike's prone form on the monitor. Best get on with it. There wasn't any other way.

"Okay. I want that one."


	6. Chapter 6

The guard in the booth remained sitting while the tall one took him to the last door on the left.

Xander grabbed hold of his arm just outside the cell, willing him to look at him.

"And you know what I paid for. You'll make sure to tell that guy that I want privacy for two hours straight, right?"

"He's been told that already. Don't worry, pirate. You'll get your privacy". He inserted a key, unlocked the door and swung it open.

"There. Tools are on the shelves. Be a good boy and put them back where you took them from when you're done".

The man's grey eyes bore into Xander's. An arrogant smile was playing on his lips. He obviously wasn't impressed by the eye patch. Or the leather pants. Could easily tell that Xander was afraid. He probably believed that Xander was scared shitless from the prospect of going in to an actual vampire.

He was right, of course. Xander was afraid. In fact he was scared out of his mind right now but not from the reason, this guy thought. Xander nodded, braced himself and entered the cell. The door swung shut and he heard the key being turned. He was locked inside... with Spike.

 _Okay! It's okay! I'm here. I'm here…. and those fucking assholes are watching, no doubt_. How long would they want to watch? After all they had seen it all before. Five minutes? Ten? More? Who could tell?

Shit, shit, shit! _I'm sorry, Spike, I'm so sorry but there's just no other way, man. Just no other way if I don't want to cock this up… Pun very much non intended. Please don't kill me!_

Xander slowly approached the stretched out vampire in the middle of the room. Spike was placed on some kind of horseshoe shaped elevated platform. His legs were strapped on to the platform with each foot hanging out over the ends. If a man were to step up behind Spike, he would have very easy access to Spike's behind. Fuck!

As Xander came nearer, he could see that Spike was trembling. Though Spike didn't lift or turn his head to see who was coming, Xander could hear him trying to take steadying openmouthed breaths in a miserably failed effort to control his tremors. Every time, he brokenly exhaled, the tremors returned in full force.

Spike's dark hair was short and curly. It made him look vulnerable and more human. And he was so thin. Lash marks, mostly healed, covered his once beautiful back, ass, and thighs. His feet were covered in lacerations. Apparently, somebody had forgotten the rule of no cutting.

 _Assholes._

Xander steeled himself and went around the platform and stepped out to the right in front of Spike. He didn't ascend the platform but stayed down at near eye level with the vampire. Spike kept his head bent low.

Biting his lip to keep from screaming his outrage, Xander stood still. Noticed the purple bruises, cuts and marks on the front of Spike's body. Saw the finger shaped bruises on his hips and arms. The damaged wrists. Spike seemed to be every bit as thrashed as he had been at that time with Glory. Worse.

He couldn't see Spikes face properly, but he could see a vertical deep cut that ran along Spike's cheek and across his nose. And there were black bruises on his forehead and left upper cheek.

Xander had to fight down the nausea threatening to surface.

Spike's nostrils suddenly seemed to flare. He inhaled sharply once through his nose, stopped, exhaled and then slowly raised his slightly shaking head to look at the man before him.

Xander did his best not to flinch at the sight of Spike's clear blue eyes boring right into Xander's one eye. He watched those globes of blue ice widen in shock and recognition and he couldn't look away from the gaze which was so full of pain and desperation… and something devastatingly akin to hope.

"Harris?" Spike's once deep and resonant voice had been reduced to a whispery, dried out wheeze. "Harris, that you?"

Xander looked on in horror and dismay as Spike's eyes filled with tears. Saw Spike blink rapidly and rub his face against one of his suspended arms. It didn't work. The tears were still there when he looked back up and Xander had to look away to keep himself steady. The chains rattled from Spike's tremors.

"Please, god, Xander, is that you?" Spike repeated, a desperate note entering his tone of voice.

Xander swallowed. Clenched his jaw and looked back at the trembling man in front of him.

"Hello _Spike._ "

Xander put as much sneer in his voice as he could muster and did his best to look indifferent to Spike's present, humiliating situation. He pursed his lips, and ran his gaze slowly and menacingly down Spike's displayed nude body, lingered a bit at the poor abused cock, noticed how that made Spike shiver, and returned his gaze to Spike's face.

Spike's eyes seemed to have grown even bigger. They were bright with unshed tears and the rims around them had become very red. The skin beneath them was hollow and dark. Spike had stopped breathing and Xander's heart felt like shattering right then and there.

Christ, he didn't want to hurt Spike! But he couldn't let his emotions show. There would be time for reassuring and comforting Spike later. And by then, Xander swore to himself, yes, by then Xander would personally hold Spike, and comfort him. He would even kiss his tears away if that's what it took to get that haunted look of betrayal off of Spike's face. Xander would rock Spike and cradle Spike and run his fingers through Spike's curly hair, and make it all better because nobody deserved to be so desolate. And wasn't that strange that Xander would think so? But there it was. Right this very moment, Xander Harris wanted to help Spike more than anything he'd ever wanted in his entire life. He wanted to see Spike full of snark, banter, and cocksure confidence. Anything, _anything_ but watching this tortured version of Spike and _anything_ rather than being forced to add to Spike's torment. But unfortunately, right now, Xander didn't have a choice in the matter.

"Yeah, it's me, _Fangless_. Guess you tricked us all with the Hero act back in Sunnydale. Do you know how much Buffy mourned you? _Dawn_? God, you disgust me, you bastard!"

He took a deep breath and continued.

"At least you ended up where you belong! _Christ_ , I've been dreaming about this moment since we heard how you wounded up miraculously undead after the big Sacrifice stunt. And don't even get me started on Anya. Who _did_ die in the Hellmouth, by the way!"

At this Xander's voice quavered a little at the memory. He took another deep breath to steady himself.

"So, yeah, Spike, it's me and I think you and I have an old debt to settle, don't you agree?"

Spike stared at him. Big unblinking eyes, full of tears, disbelief, and horror. He opened his mouth. Closed it shut. Opened it again. Drew in a shuddering open mouthed breath. And then he seemed to come to some kind of understanding.

All hope, if there was any left, vanished completely from his eyes and he seemed to shrink in front of Xander, curling in on himself as much as his bondage would allow him.

A strange keening sound from the back of his throat escaped his lips. His eyes became unfocused, shell shocked and drifted off to stare distantly behind Xander. Then he closed his eyes, and his lips, and bowed his head in supplication and defeat, taking in some more unneeded shuddering breaths.

"Yes… Harris, s'pose we do at that," he whispered, his voice barely audible, and cracking slightly. A single tear gave way to gravity and dropped to the floor with a small insignificant sounding _plop_.

Xander had to blink furiously. He hated that he couldn't let Spike know he was there to help him, not hurt him. But the guards were undoubtedly watching and he needed them to believe that he would do what he came here to do. Which meant assaulting Spike. He needed them to turn off the god damn camera! His eye caught a red blinking light on the damn thing. It was on all right. Perverts.

He began unbuttoning his shirt with slightly shaky hands. When the garment hit the floor in front of Spike, Spike drew in a breath sounding like a hitched sob. Spike's trembling had intensified and he turned his head away from where Xander was standing, trying to hide his face in his arm. His eyes remained tightly shut and tears kept running down his cheeks.

Xander had to get naked. The spell wouldn't work if either of them wore clothes, Willow had said so specifically. Doing his best to ignore the crying vampire in front of him, Xander put his mind into concentrating on the task at hand. He worried about the iron cuffs around Spike's wrists. Did they count as clothes? Would they ruin the spell somehow? And how did he draw a circle of salt when Spike was elevated on a freaking platform? Should the platform be included in the circle? Best not think about that right now. He couldn't very well open the linked cuffs and he would deal with the salt when they got there. He might be able to do something about the straps on Spike's legs, though. They appeared to be of the ordinary kind, made of thick leather and closed shut tightly with two simple heavy metal buckles on each of them.

He undid the button on his leather pants and pulled down the fly. He had powdered the pants with talcum before he put them on but his nerves, the hours spent traveling aboard the train and the humidity once he got out in Philly made them somewhat difficult to pull off. He swore a little, noticing how Spike's body flinched at the angry sound. Spike oozed of terror, hurt, and betrayal and Xander wanted to throw up.

Finally, he'd stripped out of the rest of his clothes, and stood naked in front of Spike.

Once upon a time, he would have felt self-conscious at having to show himself off like this in front of Spike. Spike's body had always been perfect, and Xander's had always been, well full of baby, and donut fat. But his body had changed since Sunnydale. He had lost the extra pounds. Gained some muscles. There were no traces left of his boyhood or adolescence apart from the lost eye. Which, _oh, yeah, the eye pa_ d. Had to remove that as well. Besides, the situation they were in right now, didn't exactly call for modesty or shyness if one was able to dismiss the two psychopaths watching them out in the hallway. Spike wasn't allowed any so Xander didn't need any either. And Spike sure as hell wasn't in a position to begin making degrading remarks about Xander anyway.

The eye patch removed, the next step was to – as Willow called it – _anoint their bodies_.

He got out the small can of lube from his pants pocket. He had been smart enough to buy this can, rinse it out and refill it with the spell induced gel. Willow hadn't told him where to anoint Spike only that Xander had to use half of it on Spike's body and half of it on his own.

Well, if they were still being watched, and the red blinking dot on the camera in the corner behind Spike's back, strongly indicated that they were, there were only a few spots that would make any sense. He gritted his teeth. Damn. This was going to be tough.

 _Spike_ , he thought. _I'm gonna help you. I won't hurt you and I'm not here to rape you, God! Never that! This will all be over soon, and then we are out of here, you and me! So, please forgive me for leading you on like this and for having to do this to you. Please!_

He stepped behind Spike, grateful to be away from Spike's face even though Spike still hadn't opened his eyes, and scooped up a handful of the translucent gel-like substance. Then he grabbed hold of Spike's hip to keep him steady and moved his other hand towards Spike's abused crack. Spike was still silently crying and it was all that Xander could do not to break down and cry right there along with him for having to do this to him. To appear to get Spike ready for a fuck.

Spike had always been the most, sexy being whom Xander had ever laid eyes on. Spike equaled Sex. There was nothing else to it. Of course, back in Sunnydale, Xander had perceived himself as a purely heterosexual "normal" guy but somewhere in his mid-twenties, he had finally admitted to himself that he had been in denial since puberty. Admitting that he had been doing more than just manly admiring Spike's body, had been the beginning of his coming out as a proud, though mostly lonely bi-sexual male.

In fact, after he came out both mentally and in the open, he'd often fantasized about having sex with Spike. Several times, actually. But never had any of those fantasies involved Spike being chained up, crying and shaking, and expecting Xander to rape him.

Xander touched Spike's back tentatively biting the inside of his mouth hard when Spike flinched. Spike's skin felt cool and soft and it trembled beneath Xander's hand like it belonged to a frightened dog at the vet. Steeling himself, Xander carefully worked his way down between the two globes, and began applying the gel as tenderly as he could without giving himself away as an obvious fraud. He didn't breach Spike, only gently lathered the abused area with the cool ointment, gliding his fingers up and down and around the – surprisingly – small puckered hole to make what he was doing look real without hurting Spike.

Tears and small cuts were eminent down there but Spike's vampire healing had made sure that he was nearly healed up and probably tight as ever. Xander bit his lip pushing away a sudden and very much unwelcome sensation of arousal. He moved his hand away to lather more of the stuff on Spike's buttocks. His thumb on Spike's hip began making small soothing circles, matching those his hand were doing on the buttocks and Xander continued his careful ministrations until he realized that Spike had tensed up.

He wasn't trembling as much anymore. Instead he was lightly panting, sometimes, a small noise sounding like a sob or a gasp escaped from his mouth. Xander leaned in to touch his lips to Spike's soft hair as he continued caressing Spike's behind. Seemingly of its own volition, his other hand moved slowly forward, traveling along Spike's hip bone, down his abdomen and over the curly hair at Spike's crotch. He hesitated, then took Spike's cock in hand and rubbed it soothingly up and down. A shudder went through Spike. Xander squeezed a little in what he hoped was a reassuring way and to his astonishment, Spike threw his head back, while uttering an anguished moan of clear frustration as his cock began to harden and fill out in Xander's hand. 


	7. Chapter 7

As Xander's clothes landed on the floor, Spike felt something irretrievable die within him. He'd thought that they had come to some sort of mutual understanding in those final months before the battle against the First. They had not been close, had never trusted one another but Harris hadn't treated him with hate. In fact, he had allowed him to live in his apartment while Spike was still half mad. Had made sure to heat up blood for him when he'd forgotten to eat. Had given him clean clothes. They hadn't spoken much and it had been clear that they weren't friends, but Spike had thought that they weren't exactly enemies either.

How could he have been so stupid? So blind? Clearly the boy, no, the man, had never gotten over Spike's past actions before the soul. Nor after. Had probably never believed it when the First had played mind games causing Spike to kill again and knock Harris unconscious. Hadn't understood nor forgiven what went on between Spike and Anya that night at the Magic Box. And just a second ago, he'd suggested that Spike had expected to come out alive after entering the Hellmouth wearing that sodding amulet. That Spike had led them all on intentionally.

Spike knew he should have contacted Buffy when he got his body back but he had never found the right time, or the right occasion. Honestly, didn't have the guts to do it.

And after Rome, after seeing her with the bloody Immortal, he'd decided that Angel was right. It were better for the lot of them if she was allowed to move on with her life. She would be happier for it. Of course, Xander would never understand that. Would never believe him. And now he had come to take his revenge.

Maybe he was right. Maybe Spike did deserve this. He had caused so much pain in his unlife. Killed so many people. Had attacked Buffy.

He knew that was his worst crime in Xander's opinion. He'd never meant to cross the line that night but he understood why Buffy had feared him for a long time afterwards because he _had_ hurt her, hadn't he? _Had_ crossed that line. And if she hadn't kicked him away, who knew how far his demon would have gone before realizing what it was he was about to do to her? Not _that_ , but close enough. Much too close. And that was why he'd left, wasn' it? He couldn't bear the thought of what he had nearly done. He had needed to step away from that part of him and try to become a better person. A better man. A sodding _vampire with a soul_.

But Xander Harris didn't know that and would never believe that, either. Yes, there were many reasons why Harris hated him.

It was just so hard to take because he _knew_ the boy. Even if they didn't like one another, Spike had never expected for something like this to happen. But it was and he couldn't bear it.

It made him feel more afraid and more terrified than ever because after this there would be nothing left of him.

Clearly, that didn't matter to Xander. All he ever saw was the demon. A thing. It broke what was left of Spike's resolve. Tears formed in his eyes. Crying now like the sorry ponce, he was and it felt devastating not even to be able to goddamn stop _that_.

Harris grabbed his hip and his body jerked from the touch. He placed his palm on Spike's back, slowly sliding his hand down to Spike's entrance. A violent tremble coursed through him. Tears trickled down his eyes and into his mouth.

The lube on Xander's fingers felt cool. Xander rubbed his fingers against his hole and Spike couldn't help but tense up. It would hurt.

In just a second, Xander would thrust his fingers deep inside him and make him _hurt_.

But he didn't.

Instead, his fingers felt… gentle. Non-intrusive ... The touches were soft and slightly probing and he merely stroked Spike's entrance instead of pushing in and Spike shuddered in helpless confusion. What was this? Why was Xander drawing it out?

Xander's fingers were running up and down his crack, now. The area became more and more sensitive, and slippery. The fingers felt warm and callused and they didn't jab or pinch or stretch or push. Instead, it felt like he was treating Spike with care. And wasn't that a laugh?

Xander's other hand began to move on his hip. Up and down. Drawing slow circles. Again, gentle, soothing.

It felt… it almost felt nice and Spike wanted to scream.

He hadn't been treated gently in all the time he had been a prisoner. He was starved for tenderness and his stupid body couldn't help but respond to the soft touches. His breathing shifted, became panting.

He didn't want to respond! But the hands felt so careful, so tender, and warm.

As Xander's left hand glided around him to travel to his belly and downwards to his cock, his betraying body welcomed it, and though he wished he could stop it, his cock began to fill out. He gasped in horror. When Xander's big hand closed around his shaft and began stroking it, it became hard with instant want and Spike cried out in anguished desperation. Oh, god, he didn't want this!

He became aware of Xander's ever rising arousal mixing with his own unwanted one.

Xander hadn't been aroused before. In fact, the only sensations Spike had caught onto were Xander's disgust, and anger, and pity…

Spike hesitated.

 _Pity?_


	8. Chapter 8

Xander leaned his forehead against the back of Spike's neck, trying to fight back his surge of arousal. Shit, he felt disgusted with himself. But touching Spike like this felt mind-blowingly erotic. Despite the bondage, despite the bruises, despite Spike having no say what so ever, him being on display like this, splayed out for Xander, was still very much with the sexy.

And Spike's skin was smooth and soft where it hadn't been damaged. It still had that beautiful, almost translucent look to it that Xander had secretly admired whenever he'd caught a glimpse of it.

Muscles rippled when Spike shifted. Held like he was, Spike couldn't move much, but the sight of the slightest tension in Spike's arms, or the feel of his back against Xander's chest was incredible. Feeling Spike's tensed abs had sent Xander's head spinning. How many times had he admired those stomach muscles? Admired that torso that ought to belong on a Greek statue of… of a Greek god and not on somebody actually walking around in Xander's apartment, careless of whoever might see them. Those abs were a wonder. As were Spike's hip bones, his chest, his ass, his perfect small nipples placed just right... The man was perfect. Simple as that. Feeling Spike's cock fill out didn't help Xander fighting off his own hard on. Spike felt so goddamn right in Xander's hand. Silky, smooth, long. _Gah, stop, pal! Don't go there! Have a job to do. Have to finish this. Get a grip on yourself!_

Xander released Spike and stepped around him. He went up the few stairs and knelt down facing Spike.

Spike's mouth was hanging open, panting. His eyes were half closed and unfocused. There were tears on his cheeks. Xander cast a quick glance towards the camera on the wall. Red light still blinking. Fuck!

He scooped up the rest of the gel from the can and closed his sticky hand around his own cock. Began stroking it up and down. Up and down. He looked and saw how Spike's erection nearly touched his own. He lifted his other hand and continued where he had left off. Stroking Spike in a slow firm gentle manner and stroking himself in the same way.

As he glanced up again to check on the camera, he saw that Spike was now silently looking at Xander's hands running up and down both of their lengths. Spike blinked slowly and lifted his heavy lidded gaze to Xander's.

"What… Why?" Spike whispered. "Why are you doing this… like…?"

He didn't finish the question but kept staring into Xander's eye. Again, a heavy shudder ran over him and Xander felt a shiver run through his own body as well. As Xander didn't answer, Spike's head dipped again.

The sound of an electronic device shutting down reached Xander's ears dimly through the emotional storm currently taking up most of his hearing. But he shook his head in order to clear it as soon as his mind belatedly managed to process what the click had meant.

He looked back behind Spike. The red light had turned off. _Finally! Thank god!_

He didn't waste time but instantly grabbed Spike by the shoulders.

"Spike, look at me!"

Spike didn't. He kept staring at their cocks, tips touching. Panting. Shaking. _Crying_.

"Spike, I said _look at me_!"

Spike's head snapped up and his eyes were full of confused fear.

"Spike, I am not here to harm you. I know what this looks like but I had to do it! The camera. They were watching us!"

Xander shook his head in sorrow.

"Look, I… I had to make you believe that I would… It was just a hoax, Spike. I would never hurt you. Never! You have to believe me."

Spike didn't seem to understand him. He kept staring at Xander, though. Probably not daring to look away from the way his eyebrows came together in a worried frown.

"I'm going to help you get out of here. Willow's made this spell that'll get us to my apartment. I need you to remain calm while I prepare it, okay?"

Spike blinked. Still no outward reaction showing on his face or in his eyes to indicate that he had understood anything of what Xander'd just told him.

All right. Spike didn't have to do anything and he couldn't get away. There would be time to explain it all later. Or so he hoped.

Xander got up, took out the salt shaker and after a quick decision poured the content out in a circle on the floor around the platform. Then he loosened the straps around Spike's legs. The vampire didn't move at all.

The removed straps exposed darkened rings around the ankles and shins. The skin was sunken, and black where the straps had been strapped on. The legs looked too thin like they'd simply wasted away. Xander gathered that Spike wouldn't be able to move them even if he'd wanted to. Well, he didn't have to move and if they got out, Xander could easily pick him up and carry him if it came to that.

He left the shaker on the floor next to his clothes and stepped back up on the platform, placing his hands below Spike's arms like he would have if he were to comfort a small child while he slowly knelt down once more to stay in eye contact with the vampire.

"Spike, I'll do a… a spell induced chant now. We have to touch each other while I'm doing it. I'm going to put my arms around you and touch the salve I put on your…on your behind. And you'll have to touch me as well where I… on my front. Do you understand? It's important that we do this right because Willow's going to hone in on us via that gel and you touching me touching the spell and vice versa will enable her to do that. She'll locate our exact position and get a feel of our bodies that way, all right? We don't want to end up being only partially moved, okay buddy?"

Spike's eyes seemed to clear a little. He didn't say anything but he looked down on Xander's now flaccid cock, glittering with the magic gel. Then he seemed to reach a quick decision because he arched his body forward as much as he could, and pressed himself tight up against Xander. Xander sighed in relief and smiled at Spike. Xander put his arms fully around Spike and held him tight for a moment fighting a big lump in his throat. He cleared it and whispered into Spike's hair

"It's gonna be alright, Spike. Just you wait and see".

To his immense relief, he felt a small nod on his shoulder and bit his lip. Any second now, he would end up crying his eye out if he didn't pull himself together. Spike's small puffy breaths felt cool and timid against his chest. He seemed so damn fragile. _Oh, Wills, this better work. I don't know what I'll do if it doesn't._

Xander sniffled a little, loosened his grip and took hold of Spike's bottom with one hand, making sure to touch the smeared area. He felt Spike push forward even more pressing his crotch hard against Xander's.

Xander closed his eye and began the chant. He didn't understand a word of it, but it was something about calling the Goddess of Flight, and the Ruler of Particles as well as a number of other deities and magical beings. By doing the chant, he mentally and magically reached out to Willow who was in her home outside London. He repeated the same words over and over and began to feel tingly and lightheaded. The words seemed to become harder to pronounce, more difficult to form with his lips, and he had to concentrate on making each carefully rehearsed syllable come out exactly the same as before. Apart from the sensation of being restrained in his speech, nothing seemed to happen. But he kept on chanting and chanting and suddenly he felt the gel begin to liquefy and move of its own accord and he opened his eye.

Tendrils of the now oil-like clingy substance spread out and moved from his cock and crotch and from Spike's backside to slowly expand and cover the rest of their meshed up bodies. It felt cool and warm all at the same time and he got the chills. It reached his arms and legs and idly moved up towards his neck, his face, and his hair and he had to fight back a sudden sense of suffocating when it traveled up over his mouth and nose. Transfixed, he watched as Spike's back was leisurely covered in the oily mixture. Watched how it trailed up Spike's neck, and into his hair. He turned his head a little and saw the substance trail upwards towards Spike's arms and hands. When it reached the chains which were clamped tightly around Spike's wrists, it seemed to stop, seemingly puzzled over the unexpected obstacle. Then thankfully, it did a double take and continued upwards squeezing below the cuffs until finally, after what seemed like forever, both Spike and Xander were covered in magical oily goo from top to toe.

The substance began to change and congeal as it seemed to press in on them hard. It felt like Xander's skin was suddenly too tight and he gripped a little harder around Spike's body in order to try and soothe them both.

The spell was now thrumming with Willow's built up power. Dimly he became aware of Spike's whispered litany of "please, please, please, please…"

Suddenly there was heat, a bright flash and a ponderous boom and then Xander flew apart.


	9. Chapter 9

He was lying on top of Spike. His mind felt hungover and fuzzy but there was no mistaking the slim cool naked body pressed up against his with anybody else's.

Xander's own body in contrast felt warm and relaxed in that heavy sort of way your body gets when you wake up after a long night's sleep or if you've had too much to drink and too little sleep. The latter seemed to be the case. He shifted just slightly, feeling a little woozy and drew in a contented little sigh all the same.

This was nice. _Yeah_ , he decided _I'll stay here and rest for a little while longer_. He smiled, feeling drunk and happy and tired. They fit well together lying like this, he and Spike and he snuggled closer. He opened his eye. Shockingly, the mind fog lifted at the exact same time and he took in a sharp breath of air.

Hey! He was alive! He was whole! And Spike wasn't dust!

A thrill of joy made his heart jump. Whoa, he was lying _on top_ of Spike? With that realization, Xander also became instantly aware of the fact that Spike wasn't breathing. He stirred for a second, feeling panicky before remembering that Spike didn't need oxygen. Still, Xander lying on top of him probably wasn't exactly helpful when considering the condition Spike had been in before they got magically disassembled and put together again.

Carefully lifting his head, which seemed to weigh a ton, in order to check out the surroundings, Xander was more than just a little bit relieved as he saw that they were no longer in the brothel but were in fact lying on the floor in the living room inside his apartment. The street lamp outside his curtained window illuminated the room with a faint greyish light. Apparently, it was still the middle of the night.

It wasn't until that very moment that Xander realized, just how terrified he had been of screwing up.

He was Xander Harris after all. He wasn't the one you would call when something bad was about to happen. No, if you were a sane person, you would call his friends, which were made of entirely different stuff, and Xander's contribution would be to be the one standing in the background getting whacked on the head. Only this time, it really had depended on whether or not he too would be able to do things right. Of course without Willow's magic touch (and he really needed to give her a big kiss for that) this would never have worked out. But still, Xander's part had been crucial, and he had pulled through. He had chanted the chant, smeared the smear, and saved the day. Saved Spike!

Xander wanted to sing and do a happy dance. But first, he had to get his numb feeling limbs moving and get up! He hoisted himself up on his elbows with some difficulty, giving room for Spike to breathe. Or rather begin to breathe.

Their noses were practically touching, as Xander studied the face of the man he had rescued. Spike appeared to be unconscious but maybe he was sleeping as Xander had been. It was hard to tell with vampires. His closed eyes looked sunken. The skin below them bruised, dark and fragile. His cheek bones stood out starkly against the hollows of his cheeks. His face was covered all over in cuts and bruises, the worst one still being the long cut across his nose. His mouth looked chapped but very appealing. Spike had that really lush, pouty lower lip and the curves on the upper lip were… okay, there was nothing wrong with Spike's mouth either!

His dark hair too was… was nearly burned off. Xander's eye widened. _Ashes_ lay on the floor around Spike's head and the curls had partially been burned away. _What?_

Xander immediately reached up and touched his own hair gingerly. Remnants of burnt hair and flakes of ashes fell down and landed on Spike's face and chest in small snow-like motions. Xander anxiously examined his skull further. On his left side, he still had most of his long hair but on his right... the hair had burned down nearly to the roots same as Spike's.

There had been a fire? They had been _on fire_? What the…

He cautiously put his hands to the floor on either side of Spike's head and began to push himself off of the man. Straddling Spike in a kneeling position, Xander looked down his arms and hands, checking for further signs of damage. There weren't any as far as he could tell. They still had goldenbrown hairs on them and there were no burns. They seemed just fine. Not like his burnt off hair. He did a quick check of Spike's arms which were flung out in the same position they had been in while he had been chained up. They seemed all right too, thank god. Spike's fingers, and hands, they all looked fine apart from his previous injuries. Which was damn good, because vampires and fire did absolutely _not_ go well together. Had Willow known that there would be _flames_?

Xander rose and nearly slipped in doing so. He had completely forgotten that he was still covered in the oily, magical stuff. He managed not to fall down on Spike by turning sideways as he slipped and catching his weight by one hand on the floor, grunting as he did so. The impact jarred his arm and made him wince. He used the involuntary pause, and the Twister like position, to inspect his feet and his legs which also seemed okay. So did Spike's. Or more to the point, Spike's legs were as wasted as they'd been before the spell kicked in.

Taking more care the second time around, Xander managed to awkwardly crawl entirely off of Spike's supine body, lifting one foot at a time. That done, he got up and tiptoed over to the door to the hallway and turned on a small pendant in the far corner of the living room. He had to squint a little before his eye got used to the bright light.

God, Spike looked horrible! Definitely more dead than alive. Xander bit his thumb worriedly. He was a long way from getting Spike back to his old shape. A long, long way. But he would try. Whatever it would take, Xander was gonna try.

Blood! Spike needed food. Minding his slippery feet, Xander all but ran out into his kitchen. He'd filled up the fridge with enough bags of blood to keep a ravenous vampire content for at least a couple of weeks, maybe more. He knew a demon who had helped him find a reliable supplier of bagged blood in Boston. There weren't many. It was pig but he didn't think that Spike would mind. Spike was used to drinking that stuff back in Sunnydale. And Xander had the feeling that Spike would be thankful for any kind of blood right now. Well, hopefully not human blood, but he honestly didn't think that would be an issue. The poor guy looked starved.

He grabbed a kitchen towel from behind the door and quickly managed to scrub off most of the sticky goo on his body. A shower would have been good but now wasn't the time. He took out one of the blood bags from the fridge, and heated it in the microwave. He still remembered exactly how long it took to heat up a bag of blood to just the right amount of degrees in order to please a hungry vampire. He poured out the content in a mug. Shit, he didn't have any straws. Well, they'd just have to manage without them. Then he went back into the living room.

Spike hadn't moved but he was clearly no longer unconscious. His chest was moving up and down as it always did when he was awake, and he was staring blankly up into the ceiling, slowly blinking his eyes. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He didn't turn his head towards Xander although he'd no doubt heard Xander coming in.

Xander walked quietly over to him and knelt down beside him.

"Hey," he said quietly.

Spike slowly turned his eyes towards Xander.

"Xander?" he croaked.

"Yes, Spike. It's me. We did it! We got out of there." Xander smiled warmly at Spike, gesturing around with his free hand. "You're in my home, now. And I've got some blood for you. I bet you're hungry, right?"

Spike blinked.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Yes, please."

"Okay, I'll help you get up a little and then I'm gonna carry you over to the couch. This is a great carpet but I'm pretty sure it isn't too comfy to lie on. So couch it is."

Xander sat the mug down and slid his arm under Spike's upper back and shoulders and the other one below Spike's knees and began lifting him, when Spike gasped and cried out in pain.

"Whoa, does it hurt?" Xander asked stupidly, as he quickly lowered the vampire to the floor.

Spike's arms were still flung out to either side.

"Yes," Spike managed to gasp. "Hurts. My shoulders. M'sorry."

Spike glanced up at Xander, his eyes looking afraid.

"I don't think I can get my arms down. When I was… when I was chained up, both of my shoulders popped. And I think… I think they're stuck. Sorry," he whispered.

Spike's shoulders had become dislocated from the chains holding him upright? What had the bastards tried to do? See if they could tear him apart? And his arms felt stuck? How long exactly had Spike's arms been held up like that? Not the entire time, right? Because that would mean that he'd been kept in that position for nearly ten fucking years. Surely, nobody would have…But Xander knew the answer to his unspoken question, already. Yes, at that place, they would have _._ The taste of bile filled his mouth and he clenched his jaw, swallowing to try and get the bitter flavor away from his throat. He noticed Spike flinching. And swore a little inside his head for upsetting Spike. No doubt, Xander's anger had been wafting out of him like billows of thick black smoke. He wasn't angry at Spike, for Christ's sake. That Spike would even think that was just… All right, he had to take it easy. He had to calm down. Make Spike feel safe and secure again.

He looked closely at Spike's shoulders. Yup, both of them had to be reset. Xander knew how to do that from his time spent in Africa. Where Xander and his little band of Slayers had gone, doctors, as a general rule, weren't close by. Xander, being the only one without superpowers, had decided to become helpful anyhow by putting an effort into learning all the basic first aid tricks that existed. Plus a little bit extra. Even Slayers needed help from time to time, and a broken arm or a deep cut in a thigh was dangerous to any one of them. On the black market, he'd acquired a doctor's suitcase, complete with syringes, bandages, painkillers, needles, shears, exam gloves, retractors, pliers, as well as a stethoscope, which Xander'd thought was pretty cool. There'd also been a number of sterile hand wipes in the bag and Xander had made sure to always have a lot of those at hand. Infections thrived in Africa, and you had to make sure you were as sterile as possible under those conditions before attempting to help anyone. Anyway, although a shoulder pulled out of its socket without a doubt was one of the most painful conditions for the one suffering from the injury, it was in fact a piece of cake to fix. Of course, when dealing with your average human being, you had to reset a dislocated shoulder pretty soon after the bone had been forced out of its socket if you wanted to avoid any permanent damage. He could only hope that wasn't the case for vampires as well.

"Kay, buddy. No need to apologize. It's not your fault. I'm gonna go fetch a bunch of pillows and blankets. And then we'll try and see if we can manage to get you up in a more upright position without causing you any more pain. Not gonna move you anywhere. I just need you to sit up a little in order to give you something to eat. Then later, we'll deal with your shoulders. And get you away from this floor. Sound like a plan?"

"I don't know," came the whispered reply. "Yeah, I guess. Thank you, Xander."

Spike the Polite. Who'd have thought it possible?

"Xander?" Spike continued hesitatingly. "Where are you gonna go?"

"I have all the stuff I need right here. I'm just gonna go out into the hallway and into my bedroom. I'll be back with you in a flash."

"Okay."

Spike's wary eyes and his scared hushed tone cut Xander's heart. Spike had never seemed afraid of anything and certainly not of being left alone. Xander got up in a hurry, rubbing his eye furiously as soon as he reached the hallway in order to be able to see what he was doing.

Spike was so goddamn weak. Looked so goddamn lost. If Xander ever got a chance to take down that damn brothel, he would. He would personally kill those sons of bitches for having done this to his old f… well, for doing this to Spike.


	10. Chapter 10

Xander was on his knees behind Spike's head. Around him were pillows and blankets of different sizes and textures. He'd chosen three that would fit the purpose of getting Spike up in a position to be able to drink. It didn't do to use the biggest ones as he'd first thought. Spike would be in too much pain before Xander would have finished arranging the other two and Xander could not bear the thought of causing Spike any more pain at all. And the couple of cylinder shaped throw pillows seemed too soft to give enough leverage. He had to settle with the three medium sized ones taken from his bed covers. They were throw pillows too, but they felt more solid. They should work.

"I'm gonna lift up your right arm now, and place a pillow under it, all right?"

Spike nodded.

Gently, he lifted Spike's arm, supporting lower and upper arm with his hands while carefully pushing a pillow into position using his knee. Spike grunted a bit but didn't say anything else. As Xander let go of Spike's arm, Spike exhaled the breath he had obviously been holding.

"Are you okay?" Xander asked.

"Yes. Doesn't hurt."

Knowing that statement had to be stretching the truth, Xander was still pleased with the fact, that the action hadn't seemed to cause Spike any unbearable pain. He told Spike to brace himself, and repeated the procedure with the other arm. Grabbing the last pillow he said, "And now it's time for your head and back. Are you ready?"

"Yes," Spike replied and clenched his jaw, breathing in through his nose obviously preparing himself for the unwanted painful movement.

Xander began to lift Spike's back up, all the while saying stuff like _"I've got you. Getting there. Just a little bit further_ ," and finally " _There!_ "

Xander felt triumphant as he managed to slide the pillow in under Spike's straining back. He lowered Spike slowly, and shifted the pillow a bit until Spike looked comfortable.

"You still okay, Spike?"

"I'm fine. It's good. Better. Thank you."

Xander scooted around Spike's arm and picked up the mug. Dammit, it wasn't warm anymore.

"Umm, Spike, this has gone cold, you want me to heat another one for you?"

Spike groaned before giving a barely visible shake of his head.

"No, it's fine. Please…. Please just give it to me, yeah?" He all but pleaded.

"Of course." Xander felt like a fool for having asked. Anybody could tell that Spike was starving.

He lifted the mug to Spike's mouth and tilted it slightly.

As soon as the blood hit Spike's lips, Spike let out a groan of pure hunger. "Oh god," he said and began to drink in earnest.

Xander watched in mesmerized fascination as Spike swallowed mouthful after mouthful of blood, looking for all the world, like he was a drowning man who'd just hit surface. The mug was empty in mere seconds. Xander removed it, feeling oddly embarrassed at having witnessed Spike in such a desperate need.

He turned back to look at Spike and saw the vampire's exhausted eyes staring back, his expression so grateful that Xander felt his face heat. Spike sighed and closed his eyes.

Xander swallowed with some difficulty.

"I'll go get some more," Xander's voice came out in a rusty hush.

Spike's eyes fluttered open.

"Would you? That'd be… lovely, pet. Thanks." His eyelids fell shut again.

Xander heated up three more bags and poured the content into a thermo this time. When he got back, Spike appeared to have fallen asleep although his chest was still moving up and down.

Xander placed the thermo next to the mug on the floor and picked up a thick fleece blanket. He'd forgotten that the two of them were still naked, his only focus having been to get Spike something to eat. He began draping the blanket over Spike's body and the motion caused Spike's eyes to flutter open.

"A blanket," he whispered in wonder. "So bloody soft," before closing his eyes yet again.

Xander's eye blurred. He managed to whisper "Yeah, only the best for you, pal," and he had to blink rapidly, as he finished tucking Spike in.

Clearing his throat, he whispered "Are you ready for some more food?"

Spike smiled but his eyes never opened.

"Yeah. T'is such a nice dream, pet. Such a nice…" His voice trailed off never finishing the sentence. The ghost of a small smile lingered on his lips.

Xander reached out and touched Spike's forehead. Spike made a low content noise of approval. His eyes moved slightly behind his closed lids.

Xander leaned down close to Spike's ear and whispered. "It's not a dream, Spike. It's true. You are safe and I'll take care of you."

Spike didn't reply. He was already caught deeply in the much needed sleep that his body had finally been allowed to give itself over to. Xander briefly rested his head against Spike's feeling tears in his eye. Before he leaned back up, he placed a small kiss just above Spike's ear.

He remained sitting next to Spike for a long time, watching him as he slept, stroking his short burnt hair, his thumb every once in a while quietly smoothing over a frown of worry, still etched on Spike's brow.

In the very early morning, Xander got up. Spike hadn't stirred. Checking that the blinds were down properly before leaving the room, Xander went out into his bathroom and took a quick shower. He was feeling bone weary. The adrenaline rush of the escape and the after effects of the spell combined with his hours spent in quiet contemplation while watching Spike sleep, had taken their toll. He all but fell on his bed, instantly falling asleep.

The sound of his cell phone ringing woke him up only a few hours later. "Xander!" Willow's voice rang out incredibly loud and he could practically feel her disappointment through the line. "You didn't call, Mister and you had me worried! Are you all right, did it work?"

"Sorry," he answered. "I forgot. It was all pretty intense and I… yeah, it worked. Spike is here with me. He is sleeping in the living room. We're both pretty worn out right now, Wills."

A squeal of delight from Willow caused him to wince.

"It worked! That's wonderful, Xander! I sort of knew it anyway. I mean, I could feel the two of you through the link the whole time. It's just… It's such a relief to hear you _tell_ me that you're okay. I have to admit I was feeling pretty nervous but it worked out and that's what's important. I mean, I _knew_ that it would, and… It's just so great that you are okay!"

Xander heard what Willow didn't want to say.

"Yeah… You know, Will, there was a fire. We aren't hurt exactly, but we don't have the same haircuts that we used to have. In fact, we kind of lost most of our hair because it burned off. Did you know that something like this would happen?"

He couldn't quite leave out the accusing tone in his voice.

"Oh. Well… I knew there would be some…. heat. Removing two bodies from that amount of distance takes up a lot of magical and natural energy. And energy is, well warm. That's why the main ingredient in the gel was a fire-retardant and…"

" _A fire-retardant?_ Will, Spike could have burned up and it would all have been for nothing! I could have been severely injured. We could have died! Dammit, Willow. Don't you think that you should at least have warned me that something like this could happen?"

"I know, I'm sorry. Maybe you're right and I should have told you that there was a _minor_ risk of a little bit of fire. But you have to understand Xander that I knew you wouldn't get hurt. Seriously! I knew this spell would work and I guess I just didn't want you to worry when it really wasn't necessary. I figured you would have enough on your mind already?"

Xander rubbed his tired eye. Sometimes, Willow could be so goddamn frustrating to deal with. But she was right. He probably wouldn't have been able to focus the way he had, had he known about this potential risk of going up in flames. And she had a point. Losing your hair wasn't serious. It would grow back. And it was too damn late anyway to change what had happened.

"Yeah, all right, Willow. It's okay, I mean. We did get out of there and the hair thing is no big deal, I guess..."

He fell silent for a moment before he continued, "And Willow, I got to say. I am happier than words can ever express that we did this. That _place_ … What they'd done to Spike was…"

His voice broke.

"I can't even begin to describe it," he whispered .

"It was that bad, Sweetie?"

"Yeah, it really was, Wills," he replied brokenly.

"He is… he's in a really bad shape. He´s covered in wounds from multiple beatings, his shoulders are dislocated, he is so fucking _thin_ and… it's. It was hell, Willow! I'd never imagined how… how much he's been through. Torture… Rapes… I… I just can't. " He was crying now. Couldn't hold it back any longer and he simply sobbed into the telephone.

"Oh baby, I am so sorry. It must have been so hard to witness. I am so sorry, Sweetie. Do you want me to come over? I know I'm really busy right now but maybe I could find the time to…"

"No." He cleared his throat. "No, Wills, it's all right. I don't think there's anything you can do. Besides, I don't think Spike would like you to see him right now. I think what he needs is lots and lots of food and rest. And I can take care of that. I _want_ to take care of that."

"Are you sure, honey?"

"Yeah, I am sure. Look, I'm beat. I'm gonna go back to bed now, okay Will?"

"Okay, Xander. Sleep tight. I love you."

"Love you too. Bye."

He put the phone down. He really was tired. But he wanted to check on Spike before going back to bed.


	11. Chapter 11

The sound of a phone ringing jolted Spike out of his sleep.

As he opened his eyes he was momentarily confused to discover that he was looking at a ceiling instead of a wall as if his world had somehow tipped backwards by ninety degrees. Then he remembered. He was no longer in his cell. Xander Harris of all people had come to save him. There had been a spell and a flash of bright light. And Harris had fed him and covered him in a soft blanket. And to top it off, when Spike had begun to fall asleep, _Xander_ bloody _Harris_ had stroked his hair and _kissed_ him. Spike would have wept had he had the strength to do it.

It was too bloody unbelievable was what it was!

Still, he didn't rightly think he _had_ lost his mind as he had so often prayed he would. It all felt so real. Could it be true that in a minute or so, there wouldn't be another client standing behind him, zipping down? That nobody would come in and beat the crap out of him or force him to suck them off? _God_! How long had he dreamed of this? Of somebody that would be kind to him? It _was_ real, wasn't it?

But Xander Harris? No, there had to be something wrong.

Harris had never cared for him. Couldn't. Nobody could. He was just some luckless thing, wasn't he? No, what had went on before the moment when Harris had suddenly stopped his assault and told him about the rescue, now _that_ had felt much more real than what had taken place afterwards. Maybe his mind had simply snapped during Xander's rape?

He began to pant. Anxiety flowed through him.

Maybe Harris _had_ been at the cell. And maybe Harris _had_ succeeded in abducting him. But it had to be because he wanted more time to get his payback done, didn't it? Here he was, helpless, completely unable to move his arms and legs. Easy pick for the boy. _Oh god, please no_! But that had to be it, right? 'Cause he should know better by now, shouldn't he? The PTBs _never_ gave him a break.

 _"Love you too. Bye."_

Oh, _bloody hell_! He'd forgotten to listen in on the telephone conversation, too engulfed in his worries. Whom had Harris been talking to?

Somebody he loved, obviously.

Somebody who would come and have a go at Spike or simply stand by and watch, cheering Harris on?

Spike began to shiver as he heard the man get up from his bed and move nearer. He closed his eyes tightly, desperately trying to block out what was about to happen anytime now. Oh god, no. And his twisted mind had thought up a _kiss_ from Harris? He fought back a giggle that would have come out high pitched and insane. He really had lost his mind!

 _Bugger_.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

Xander stood at the door, frowning at the sight of Spike's body. Though Spike had closed his eyes, he clearly wasn't sleeping. Faking it badly, in fact. Had he had a nightmare? God knew there would be plenty of bad memories to cook up some nasty dreams to mess up Spike's sleep.

Still frowning he went over to Spike.

"Spike?"

When Spike didn't reply, he continued, "Did you have a bad dream? It wasn't real. You're still here, with me, in my apartment. Open your eyes, Buddy." Xander said softly.

"Just shut your gob and get on with it, Harris. I sodding well don't care. You can't hurt me more than I've already been hurt."

"Whoa, where did that come from? What are you talking about? Did you forget that I've just _rescued_ you? I don't want to get on with anything but helping you. Look at me, Spike!"

Spike clenched his jaw and his nostrils flared in what looked to Xander like disgust. Xander couldn't tell if the disgust was directed at Xander or at Spike himself. But he was impressed when Spike did look up at Xander, his eyes full of defiance.

"I'm no fool, Harris. I guess my mind must've gone off to La-La Land for a moment,but I know what you're on about. You hate me and you always have. So go on, rape me and be done with it. See if I bloody care."

Though the words were fierce, Spike's quivering voice sort of ruined the bravado.

Xander shook his head.

"You know what, Spike? You _are_ a fool. I don't hate you. I know I used to say a lot of shit to you back in Sunnydale. And I won't lie to you. I really did think I hated you that night at the Magic Box. I was jealous, okay! And immature. Because the person, I really hated wasn't you! It was _me_! So don't give yourself credit when it isn't due!"

He got up and left. Went back into the kitchen. Swore. Grabbed a clean mug and swore some more, clenching the mug hard before returning to Spike. He didn't look at Spike, just poured up some blood from the thermo. Dammit, he just wanted to help.

"Here. You need to get your strength back. And who knows, maybe your brain'll begin working again and you'll be able to believe that this is real. And I'm really sorry to disappoint you but there won't be any raping, either!"

He sat holding the mug up close to Spike's nose.

Spike's eyes were still fixed at him. When Xander didn't move or flinch, they began to flicker and finally, Spike looked away. He was still shaking, Xander noticed. He looked utterly defeated.

Spike's tongue flicked out. He licked his lips. Glanced back up at Xander and then at the mug before him.

"Okay," he whispered. "Okay. Please, I'm ready to eat now. Sorry about… sorry."

"Look, I don't blame you. I know this is hard to take in. But all I wanna do is make you well again. I don't have any hidden agenda going on. Now drink this and try to rest a little more. We need to fix those shoulders but I want you to feel well fed and rested before we give it a try."

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

Spike drank the mug full of blood. It tasted and felt just as wonderful as the one Xander had given him previously. Better even. It was warm! And he could easily drink the second mug too, which Xander wordlessly handed him when the first one was empty. So bloody warm. He felt his permanent sense of hunger begin to dissipate.

Some of what the boy had said made sense. He had the chance to rest some more so he better well take it. A third mug was consumed as he lay pensive. Finally, his stomach was full. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt anything like it. He shook his head, when Xander asked if he wanted more.

Xander left without saying good night but he looked worn out and sad as he did so. Spike didn't know what to make of that. Still didn't know what to think of any of it.

He lay awake until he heard Xander's bed creak and Xander's breathing gradually change into the deep relaxed breaths of a man fully asleep. Finally, he too drifted off.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

It was late in the afternoon when Xander woke up. He got out of bed as quietly as he could, checked on Spike who slept for real this time and went out into the kitchen to make some coffee and some toast. He hadn't had anything to eat since last night at the train station where he'd bought a coke and a couple of warm pretzels before getting the cab. Today was Friday but he had taken the day and the next week off.

He ate in silence contemplating the situation. It was a mess. Spike obviously didn't trust him and though he hated it, he couldn't blame him. Xander's fake assault had overstepped the boundary of any trust by far. His face heated in shame as he remembered how turned on he'd been touching Spike in the cell. His old attraction to the vampire had all but exploded when he'd actually laid hands on that body and he hadn't been able to control it. It had been so fucking _wrong_!

He remembered Spike's panting breaths, the tears on his cheeks, his terror and defeated and beaten body.

The last thing Spike would ever want was to be touched like that by any man, let alone him. The whole idea of having been turned on in front of Spike in that room was sickening. He'd had a hard on while groping a chained up _rape_ victim, for Christ's sake.

Xander stopped chewing. In all ways but one, he really had kind of raped Spike. The toast seemed to swell up to triple its size in his mouth. He had to spit it out in the trashcan, nearly throwing up doing so.

 _Christ_ , he loathed himself! There was no way he could explain what had happened without sounding gross, but he had to make Spike understand that rape had never been on his mind. That Spike could trust him. He just had to.

After another quick shower, he dressed in a t-shirt and some old jeans and went back into the living room. Spike was still sleeping. Xander was relieved to see that Spike looked better than he had before. His checks weren't quite as hollow, his skin not quite as sickly pale and some of the wounds were showing signs of healing. The long gash on his face was red with blood and looked like a recent injury. Even though it kind of made it look worse, it was still a good thing.

Xander decided that when Spike woke up, he would act as if their last conversation didn't take place and get him something more to eat and then he would reset Spike's shoulders. Hopefully, the fresh blood flowing in Spike's veins had loosened up the muscles and tendons enough to make it possible. Either way, he had to give it a try. Not until Spike's shoulders were set, would Xander be able to pick him up. Spike needed a bath to get the magical goo off and some of the wounds needed dressing now that they were bleeding. Xander sat down on the couch and waited. Explaining what had happened in that cell would have to wait. Xander wasn't sure he could anyway.

Maybe it was best forgotten. 


	12. Chapter 12

Spike stirred and Xander rose from the couch and quietly approached him. Spike drew in a short breath, almost like a gasp. His blue eyes blinked up at Xander almost instantly. They had a wary look to them.

"Hi again," Xander said softly. "Sleep well?"

Spike turned his gaze to the ceiling and cleared his throat.

"Yeah, did. Feel better."

He shifted a bit, the muscles in his shoulders visibly tensing as he did so. The slight motion made him grimace with pain.

"Still can't move my bloody arms," he muttered and cast a worried glance at Xander before looking away.

"Then don't try to. They need to be put back in place and I'm gonna do that for you in a few minutes. First you gotta have another meal. I figure this thing'll only work if you're chock-full of blood – and wow did that _not_ sound pretty?"

He smiled at Spike to let him know that he was joking. Spike didn't smile.

He cleared his throat, feeling like an idiot.

"So anyway, you just stay right where you are… Well, I mean, you'll be here and I'm gonna go heat up some more blood for you. And then we'll get those shoulders back where they belong."

He came back a couple of minutes later and knelt down.

"Here you go."

He held out the mug, letting it touch Spike's lips and once again watched as Spike drank the life giving fluid. A little spill trickled down the side of Spike's mouth and he instinctively reached out to wipe it off with his fingertip. The drop of blood clung to the digit as Spike finished drinking the rest of the blood in the mug. Not wanting to wipe the blood off in his pants, he held his hand slightly up in the air as he sat the mug down.

"I can clean it off for you," Spike offered quietly.

"Huh? Uh… thanks" Xander said.

He extended his finger towards Spike and watched as Spike touched his cool tongue to his fingertip and caught the drop of blood. It was over in a second, but Xander's heart did a little jump at the sensation which that simple touch caused in him, and he immediately pulled back his hand, feeling ashamed. Fuck, why did Spike have that effect on him? It was _not_ okay. It was so not okay.

"More?" he managed to croak, trying to get his mind back on track which was to help Spike, not ogling him.

"No." Spike replied, not looking at Xander. "I can't. Haven't had this much to eat since… I don't know, really. I don't know how long I was…" He drew in a shuddering breath and looked at Xander.

"What's the date?"

"The Hellmouth collapsed in 2003," Xander began slowly. "That's more than ten years ago now. Today is August 31, 2013."

He couldn't bring himself to look at Spike's expression at this news just yet. Still, he wanted to know the truth about the length of Spike's captivity himself so he continued in a calm and steady voice.

"A few years ago, I was told by Willow that you didn't survive in LA. That you died there along with Angel in the early spring of 2004. Was that when you were captured?"

He looked back down at Spike. The look of shocked horror on Spike's face answered his question. He watched in horror as Spike's eyes began to fill with the wet sheen of tears. Watched how Spike tried to hold his emotions in check. Watched how trying to do so seemed to hurt him. Xander's own vision began to blur in sympathy. He couldn't even begin to understand what this information did to Spike but all he wanted to do himself was pretty much curl up into a ball. He guessed Spike wanted to, no _needed_ to do the same but of course, he couldn't.

Frowning in worry, Xander reached out and placed a hand, palm down, on Spike's forehead. Spike's lips quivered and he locked eyes with Xander. As they stared into each other's eyes, a shudder ran through Spike's frame and Xander bit his lower lip hard. He stroked Spike's head softly and whispered, "Don't hold it back, Spike. Just let it out."

He watched as the last of Spike's defenses crumbled and Spike began to cry in earnest.

God, Xander had never felt so helpless in his life. No comforting words could make up for what Spike had been through. _Nothing_ could make up so many years of suffering. Xander wanted to gather Spike in his arms, but knew he couldn't without causing Spike a severe amount of pain. Not knowing what else to do, he therefore gently cupped Spike's cheek and ran his fingers soothingly over Spike's face and bristled hair, murmuring nonsense. He wiped tears off Spike's face and neck. Tried vainly to wipe off tears of his own on his t-shirt. His chest burned and his throat ached. It took all he had in him to stay in position and just be there for Spike, trying to give him some sort of comfort.

Gradually, Spike's sobbing subsided. He continued to weep soundlessly, and that was nearly more heartbreaking to watch because Spike looked so goddamn desolate lying there, tears streaming down his thin and battered face.

Xander continued stroking Spike's face and hair. Finally, the tears ran out, but Spike's breaths still came out hitched and uneven sounding. Xander didn't talk. There really weren't any words to say. He bowed his head and sighed, as he listened to Spike's breathing slowly begin to calm down.

"Xander?"

Spike's voice sounded raw.

"I don't know… why you came for me. But thank you."

Xander looked at Spike. His own voice wasn't exactly steady but he managed to reply, "I wish I'd known about you sooner. I wish I could have spared you some of those years in that hellhole but I just didn't know. I found out that you were alive last month when Willow told me. She hadn't known before either and it was pure luck that she did find out. When she told me, we both figured that you were simply living somewhere and I don't know... I just wanted to meet you. Wanted to get to know you better. And then I…

"As soon as we figured out that you were being held somewhere, we did everything we could to find a way to get to you and get you out. I wish we'd been quicker but… But now you're here. And there's a whole future lying out there waiting for you, you know."

He took a deep breath.

"And we'll start it off by fixing those shoulders. No more putting things off, okay? What d'you say? Ready to give it a try?"

Spike looked at Xander, an unreadable expression on his face. He nodded. Xander rose and knelt behind Spike's head. He rolled his head to get some of the tension out of his neck.

"Right, we need to remove the pillows again. This thing's best done when you're lying flat on your back. And Spike? I won't lie to you. This is gonna hurt like a bitch. But once it's done, you'll feel much better. I promise. Okay! I'll remove the pillows now. I'm doing it one at a time, same as I did when I propped you up to begin with."

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

Spike had become exhausted from all that weeping. He hadn't wanted to break down and cry again, but Xander's empathic look and his sodding hand on Spike's head had broken something and he hadn't been able to prevent it. He'd cried for all those years spent in torment, for his humiliation, for his lost self that would never return, for Angel, for everything, really.

Now, alt he felt was worn out and it didn't seem like all that senseless bawling had helped any. When did it ever? But maybe the numbness it had caused did help a little. It nearly didn't hurt when Xander got the pillows out from under him.

Xander told him that he had to brace himself. Glumly he thought to himself _And when don't I ever_? But he did as he was told and took in a couple of steadying breaths.

Xander wanted to start with his right arm. He would push it down using force if necessary so that it would end up lying flat along Spike's body. Then he would lift Spike's underarm up in a ninety degree angle perpendicular to Spike's body, making it point up towards the ceiling. When that was done, he would set the shoulder right.

It sounded easy. It hurt like bloody hell.

Spike roared from the agony lancing through his right side. It felt like Xander was trying to bleeding wrench his bloody arm right off its hinge. God! And that was only the getting the arm down part.

He wanted to pass out but it didn't happen. Xander quickly got up and straddled his thighs. Spike could only look blearily up at him. Christ, but he ached!

When Xander took hold of his arm again and bent it at the elbow, he wanted to arch his body and get away somehow but of course he couldn't. Xander kept him firmly in place, and told him to make a fist which he shakily managed to do. Xander's hand closed around it to make it tighter and then Xander _pushed_ the underarm outwards away from his body and then back inwards.

He screamed as his shoulder creaked loudly in protest but then something clicked and settled in the joint, and abruptly the terrible burning pain simply disappeared. He lay gasping and panting, feeling utterly spent. It had hurt like hell a few seconds ago but now there was no discernible pain worth mentioning. Xander was a bloody miracle maker!

He saw the satisfaction on Xander's face and felt Xander' hand squeeze around his fist and give it a little shake as if Spike'd just won a bloody competition or something and he couldn't help but smile a bit up at the man. Then he sobered and his smile withered away. Because now, of course, he would have to go through the same ordeal with the other arm. _Bloody hell!_


	13. Chapter 13

Spike was utterly and completely knackered.

He barely managed to respond when Xander asked him if he wanted a bath. But he nodded the affirmative and Xander left.

The thought of his aching, damaged limbs, submerged in delicious, hot water made him practically moan in longing.

As he waited while Xander got the bath ready, he gingerly flexed his fingers below the blanket. He could feel his fingertips move against his thighs. His skin felt odd and cool to the touch.

With some difficulty, he managed to pull his hands up on his stomach, using every bit of the depressingly weak power he had left in his arms. A very small move for a man but a bloody big step for a vampire who'd been chained up for a decade. He moved his hands, feeling the ridges along his lower ribs. Each bone stood out starkly against the thin papery sheet that was his present sorry excuse for skin. Felt his hipbones protruding. It was a sodding wonder they hadn't plain and simple cut right through it.

His skull began to itch and he haphazardly tried to lift his hand and scratch at it but the movement hurt like hell. He got as far as placing his left hand on his chest. Still a way to go yet, he reckoned tiredly.

But if Xander kept feeding him and tending to him the way he'd been so far, it wouldn't be long before he could scratch any damn itch he sodding well wanted to.

What were the wait of a few days or weeks compared to years when he hadn't been able to do even that?

Xander came back and Spike watched as the man seemed to stop too abruptly, a slightly uncomfortable look to his face. Right, Xander was embarrassed about having to bathe him?

Spike would have laughed in the old days. Not like he had any virtue left to lose, was it? But that was then.

Being naked in front of another man had caused him nothing but pain and humiliation those past many years and he didn't exactly welcome the idea. But he'd be damned if he were to feel ashamed about it. And right now, Spike honestly didn't care one way or the other. He was so tired and he wanted that bath so badly.

"Just pick me up already, Harris," he said somewhat gruffly in order to get the boy to move.

"Okay," Xander replied, a little flushed. "Let's get you out into the bathroom."

He bent and easily lifted Spike up like he was nothing but a sodding bag of feathers. The blanket glided off and despite himself, Spike tensed a little from a pang of unreasonable fear at being exposed.

It was stupid. Xander wouldn't hurt him. And to be honest, he would much rather have Xander touch him than any other man. At least, Xander acted as if Spike were a person, rather than a fuck toy. Sod all else.

As Xander maneuvered him down into the tub, he let out a groan of approval. God, it felt bloody marvelous. Xander had lined the tub with towels, even on the bottom and everything was hot and soft and wonderful. He relaxed and felt his arms float and move about in miniscule wavy motions. He leaned his head back and let out a long, contented, moaning sigh. The scented soapy water smelled like milk and honey.

This was bloody heaven.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

Xander picked up the washcloth.

He decided he would begin with Spike's head and simply work his way down, one limb at a time. From his own experience, he knew that the oily substance was anything but easy to get rid of but if he took his time, he should be able to get most of it off. He started gently scrubbing Spike's scalp. The oil was stuck in the stubble that was still left of Spike's hair. He placed the cloth on the edge of the tub, and grabbed some shampoo. He squeezed out a good dollop on his hand and began working the soap into Spike's scalp. Spike's skull felt small and delicate in his hands.

As he worked in the shampoo, he had to smile a little at the small humming sounds of pleasure, Spike let out.

He massaged the scalp a little longer than necessary just for good measure and to please Spike. When the scalp felt smooth and non-clingy, he reached out and picked up the practical hand shower his bathroom had come with. He gently rinsed off the shampoo with warm water and put the shower head back in place, smiling crookedly at Spike's small sound of disapproval. Then he tilted Spike's head forward and cleaned his ears and the back of his neck and shoulders, marveling in silence at a Spike that seemed to have been turned into a compliant rag doll. Xander dipped the cloth and wrung it, tilted Spike's head back and washed Spike's face.

Spike's eyes were closed and he looked utterly pleased. Xander carefully dabbed along the gash on his nose and cheek. Despite his gentle touches, the wound had opened up a bit, and looked generally nasty.

As he dipped the cloth in the tub water again, he noticed with some dismay that the water had gotten an orange tinge to it. Not from the wash cloth as such but more from the various wounds covering most of Spike's body. Small tendrils of blood coiled from each and every one of them. He grimaced. It looked unsanitary but there was nothing he could do about it. Besides, he would refill the tub with clean water when he was done.

Face done, Xander cleaned off Spike's arms. They didn't have nearly as many cuts and bruises as Spike's back and front had, but the wrists looked awful and they were bleeding a lot. He glanced up at Spike's face as he dabbed along the sore looking ridges, checking to make sure the vampire wasn't silently suffering. But Spike looked relaxed and almost placid. Even the frown of worry on his forehead was smoothed out completely. Xander got a warm happy feeling inside. It felt so good to do something like this for Spike. And lying like that, Spike looked almost as beautiful as he had back when Xander hadn't allowed himself to fully acknowledge and appreciate it.

When he got to Spike's legs however, his happy feeling disappeared, and he frowned in concerned worry as he got a closer look at the damage done to the skeletal like shins. There didn't seem to be any working muscle tissue left beneath the skin at all. The skin itself looked slack and was covered in dark grey bruises. It looked as if those fucking tight straps were still strapped on. From under Spike's feet, blood spiraled lazily upwards. Xander fought back a surge of anger at the sight of those molested legs and feet. Had Spike been human, his legs wouldn't have stood a chance. But Spike being a vampire hopefully meant that eventually with plenty of blood, massage and rehabilitation, they'd be able to carry his weight again.

 _Patience, Xander_ , he told himself. _Patience and care is all it's gonna take_.

He held on to that thought as he moved to push Spike gently forward to be able to wash his back.

"Can you move forward a little more?" he asked in a low voice and Spike stirred, sighed and did as he was told.

Spike's back was a mess. There were clear marks from lashes, some of them seemingly done with a fucking chain, for crying out loud. At least judging from the link shaped bruises and wounds. _Christ!_ A clear print from a boot stood out in a deep purple tone. _Assholes_! He washed off as much as he could.

Wasn't much if he wanted to avoid making Spike cry out in pain. He immediately decided that he would leave Spike's crotch alone. The area had been a bluish tainted red and swollen when he'd stood in front of Spike in the cell. Probably someone had kicked it hard or worse. When Spike got his strength and dexterity back, he could clean it off himself. Until then the soak would have to do.

"I'm changing the water now, Spike."

Spike briefly looked up at him. He didn't look happy anymore. In fact, he looked like he was ashamed.

"It's bad but you never stood a chance, Spike. That you're still around is a fucking miracle. Anybody else would have died long ago, vampire or not, you know that, right?"

Spike's jaw muscles flexed and he looked away. After a few seconds, he gave a short nod but he didn't exactly look convinced. In fact, he looked like he didn't believe a word of what Xander had just said. Xander felt miserable as he emptied the tub and filled it up with fresh hot water. Spike leaned back and closed his eyes. The frown was back in place and Xander had to force himself not to reach out and touch it to smooth it away. Spike wouldn't want that. Not now.

He left, letting Spike have some privacy. In the meantime, he would change his bedding. His bed was big and comfy and perfect for Spike.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

Spike lay in the tub. For a moment, he'd almost been able to forget what had been done to him. What he had allowed himself to become. But as Xander examined his legs and he'd gotten a peek at them too, it had all come rushing back.

He was a wreck was what he was.

His body looked as if it belonged in a horror movie or in a concentration camp, and the sight of it made him feel vulnerable and weak as hell. He became aware of his old longtime companion, Pain.

The warm water had dulled the sensation somewhat, and Xander's bloody perfect head massage had made him practically come in the water from the sheer pleasure of it. For a moment, he'd almost felt good. But now, all the aches were back in full swing. Especially those on his legs, and his back, and his sodding crotch. Not to mention the burn in his bloody anus. He remembered the kicks, and the lashes. Recalled the laughter from the heartless bastard who'd been cutting the soles of his feet. That had only been a few days ago.

Spike had screamed and begged for mercy, acting like the sorry ponce, he was.

No, he was no sodding miracle.

He was a whoring coward who'd begged and pleaded and done what he could do to please any of those sodding bastards whenever he'd gotten the chance. Offering blowjobs to all and any and even pretending that he was enjoying getting cocks up his sore and abused arse whenever he'd sussed out that that was what would get the wankers off quicker. He'd panted and moaned and clenched down on their fucking cocks of his own bloody volition, hadn't he? Making them believe that he enjoyed their rapes. He'd done and said anything if it meant that they would stop hurting him.

He was beyond pathetic.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

Spike didn't say anything as Xander dried him off after having emptied the tub, and given him a thorough rinse with the hand shower.

He seemed to be deep in thought and Xander didn't want to interrupt whatever was on his mind.

Silently, he gathered Spike up in his arms and carried him into his bedroom. Placing Spike on the left side of the bed to better be able to feed him, he noticed a little belatedly that Spike's brows were lifted, his body tense and his eyes had become wide and uncertain looking. He looked scared. Xander shook his head in a placating manner.

"I'm letting you sleep in my bed while you're healing. It's much comfier than the couch and the height is better for me when I tend to you," he calmly explained to the vampire.

"Right now, I'm gonna patch you up a bit. Put some bandages around your wrists and your back and so forth. I think we need as much blood _in_ you as we can."

He turned and picked up the remedies already laid out on the floor. He looked up at Spike as he reached out to lift Spike's wrist to get started. Spike looked like he wanted to break down in tears again and Xander didn't think he could handle any more crying. He turned his head away and simply set to work, gnawing at his lip.

It took a while to cover up all the wounds on Spike's body. He'd managed to push Spike over on his stomach and done up the back pretty quick. Spike's ass had been shining up on him, pale and dotted with black and blue spots same as any other part of his body. Those damn fingerprints were still evident on his hips. Christ, he'd wanted to cry his eye out again at the sight. But he hadn't. He'd simply clenched his jaw so tight that it had actually hurt and finished the job, before turning Spike on his back again.

Spike had been staring up at the ceiling with empty eyes, not saying a word. Was he ashamed of the injuries that had been inflicted on him because he'd been unable to fight back? Or was he embarrassed over the fact that his body so blatantly showed that he had been sexually assaulted? Whatever it was, it made Xander ache for him. Fuck, it was unfair! The only ones who should feel ashamed were the motherfuckers who'd done this to Spike in the first place!

When he was done, he tucked the soft down comforter around Spike and asked him if he wanted something more to eat but Spike shook his head and continued staring at nothing. Xander picked up the first aid kit and left.

Going back into his living room, he went to pick up the blanket left on the floor. It was stained with blood. So was his carpet. What was it Buffy always used to use to get rid of blood stains? Oh yeah, mineral water. He'd have to get some of that. And crutches. Not that they were needed any time soon. And some clothes for Spike. And he would have to talk to Willow again to tell her how Spike was doing. She'd probably wanna know.

He went out into the bathroom to leave the bloodied blanket in the cupboard which was handily concealing the laundry basket. It was a nice bathroom. It had cream colored tiles, a big tub, and a laundry machine and a dryer in the corner.

Hard to be feeling cheerful about something as banal as a laundry machine and a dryer, though. He knew that Spike felt like hell. _He_ felt like hell. He wished he could just get it through that thick head of Spike's that Spike wasn't to blame for any of the things he'd been subjected to. He just had to, somehow. He wanted to see Spike smiling again. He wanted to hear Spike's laughter. He wanted Spike to talk back to him. Wanted it so badly. Things _were_ gonna get better. He knew that. It was just a matter of time and convincing a stubborn, hurt vampire not to be so goddamn hard on himself.


	14. Chapter 14

Spike had had four more mugs of blood after the bath that afternoon. It was close to midnight now and the bedroom felt very quiet. Was a nice bedroom, though. Smelled nice too. Comforting. Funny that. That the smell of Xander Harris would make him feel safe. But it did. Which just went to show how far he'd fallen.

Unhappy, he pulled the down comforter a little closer to his body. His arms weren't really working but he wiggled his body a little and used his fingers as sort of hooks and managed. The comforter felt good. It wasn't warm of course, since he didn't have any body heat of his own. But it was still nice to be covered up in softness.

Xander's bedroom was quite big. The walls were the color of lilacs. A sissy choice but combined with the African war spears, ditto shields and masks decorating the walls, it actually looked quite manly. The floor was polished wood in a warm tone. The wooden planks were wide. Clearly, this was an old apartment building. Had some atmosphere to it. Xander's bed was made of dark wood in a simple mission style design. It was comfortable, big, and sturdy. A few African handmade rag rugs matching the masks on the wall were scattered around the floor.

So yeah, all in all, a really nice bedroom.

Only he'd been staring at it for a long time now and was beginning to feel a little restless. He was the one who'd wanted to be left alone in the first place so it was his own bloody fault. And he hadn't been in the mood for company for the first couple of hours or so. At some point, he had drifted off feeling sorry for himself but now he was wide awake.

He could hear Xander watching telly set on low volume in the living room. Would be quite all right to watch a bit of telly wouldn't it? He snorted at the thought before he had finished it. Must be all that blood being poured down his gullet. Made his foolish body and brain think that he was gonna be alright again and start doing ordinary stuff. Watching telly! Spike snorted once more derisively and drummed his fingers or rather would have, had he been able to, on the mattress all the same.

Still, he wouldn't have minded lying on the couch. He wasn't good at being all by himself and the quiet hours in Xander's bedroom had reminded him of that fact. And seeing how he actually had a choice again, he'd much rather be around someone. Someone of his own choosing that was. Such as Harris. He'd been alone for so long and he hated it. Always had. Wasn't in his nature. Didn't use to be, anyway.

Of course, the only one who'd let him stay for anywhere near as long as he'd wanted, was Drusilla. And she hadn't exactly been a steady companion. But he'd liked to pretend that she was and that she loved him and needed him just as much as he needed her. Wonder where she was now, that dark insane princess of his? The soul set them apart and it had been years since he fell out of love with her. But she would always be a part of him, not matter what. If it hadn't been for Angelus, she would have been a right saint. A naïve, kindhearted, extraordinarily gifted woman. T'was still in her somewhere every now and then and he'd always loved that. Made him want to protect her and take care of her. Of course, if she could see him now, she would simply stake him and be done with it.

Harmony. She'd been willing and wanting and sort of lovely that way. And Buffy…

He'd loved her. Needed her. Changed for her. Gotten the bleeding soul.

But she'd never really felt the same and who could blame her?

Once he'd gotten his soul, he understood how they could never be. He'd seen her as the woman she was instead of the object of desire and fanciful speculation that he had been drawn to. Gotten to see her flaws too. Understood her better. Not that it made him love her any less but the love had changed into something else. Something deep and profound. He would love her till the day he was dust but he wasn't in love with her anymore. The trip to Rome had been an eye opener…

And Angel… Angel. Poor, big, stupid dead poofter. God, how he missed him!

130 something years of depressing dysfunctional relationships. And a decade of torture and abuse. He'd really known how to make use of the gift of immortality, hadn't he? An' here he was, in the shining new future, Xander had been talking about. Alone as ever and completely worthless to top it off. Not even half the man he'd been before being turned. Sure, William would've whined and cried and begged same as he had. Probably died from blood loss or infection after a week in the hands of the guards and clients at the brothel, but William wasn't no bloody vampire, was he? You couldn't expect anything from that poor sod. It hurt to know that you couldn't expect anything from him either. He'd always thought of himself as somewhat of a Big Bad. Well, he knew better now. No wonder, he hadn't been able to hold on to anything good in his entire existence. He was a sodding poncy loser and anybody but him must have been able to see right to the thick of it…

Christ, he hated being all by himself.

Xander would go to bed pretty soon, he reckoned. On the couch. Which was bloody stupid when you thought about it. His bed was more than big enough for the two of them. Maybe he should ask him to sleep in here instead? Spike wouldn't mind. As a matter of fact it would be sort of comfortable. Oh, who was he fooling? It would be so bloody nice not to be alone. Would Xander go all flustered at the idea? Would he finally realize that he was wasting his time on a pathetic wanker? He probably would. Best not mention it.

p /p

p /p

He came to with a start and realized that he was blindfolded and gagged. A thick triangular metal bit cut into the corners of his mouth, the apex pressing his tongue down. Drool trickled down his chin. The man behind him reeked of dark brutal desire. The kind of desire that was bordering on insanity and could get him really, really hurt. He couldn't plead for mercy or try to lure the man into forgetting his violent ideas with the gag tied so firmly in place. Could only smell that evilness rolling up against him, suffocating him.

A sting from a horsewhip fell over his buttock. He grunted. Another one. Two, three. More. Again and again, the whip whistled through the air and landed with a smack on his bum. He arched and tried to twist his body away but couldn't. The whip continued hitting him. It was excruciating and he could feel his skin rip and the blood run. He yelped and moaned and grunted his pain out, trying to bear down, trying to get through this but it was nearly impossible. Suddenly, the whip was thrown clattering to the floor. For a few seconds, all was quiet except for the wheezing sounds of his own labored breathing. Then a big hand cupped one of his arse cheeks, squeezing it. It stung and he gasped and groaned around the gag. A low laughter rang out behind him. The hand let go and came back only a split second later with a resounding hard slap. More slaps followed. Each one harder than the previous one. The man behind him was spanking him now in a furious tempo. Over and over and the blows felt like being clobbered with a brick. He whimpered, and cried out and jerked in his bonds. Christ, it stung. And felt devastatingly humiliating.

The slaps continued raining over his buttocks for several long minutes. Then the man stopped and murmured in a voice, hoarse and strained from arousal and exhaustion, "Oh, how pretty you look with that red ass smiling at me… It likes the attention, I think. Begs for more, the way it quivers."

Spike moaned in pain and distress and shook his head.

More hard slaps followed and Spike was sobbing now, biting down on the bit, tears of pain and humiliation running down his cheeks.

The man laughed. "You're such a greedy little cunt, aren't you? Can't get enough of my hand." He leaned in, pressing his chest against Spike's back and Spike shuddered. The man's crotch scratched against his bum and it burned. The man reached up and deftly removed the wet blindfold from Spike's eyes and threw it on the floor. Spike blinked and tried to get used to the light. The man reached around and grabbed Spike's balls. Rolled them with that big hand, still hot from the slapping and slick from Spike's blood. Ground his balls hard against each other. Spike whimpered helplessly. Oh god, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt…

"You like to watch my hand doing this to you, don't you? You want it on you all the time, isn't that right, you filthy little slut? I know it. I can feel it. I can feel how you want my hand buried deep inside you."

Spike helplessly shook his head.

The man was heedless.

"Well, you're lucky. I'll give you what you want." The man pulled at his scrotum one last time and stood back. Spike sobbed in horror. No, no, no. Not that! He couldn't… Not that, _please_ not that.

He bucked and screamed as long fingers shoved into him, stretching him. The hand jabbed further in and the fingers spread, forcing his tissue to tear and bleed.

"Hungry for me now, aren't you? I can tell."

The words were spoken in a harsh, lecherous growl and the man was panting and Spike's cries of refusal came out like muffled, torn _O_ s.

"You won't be anymore, cunt," and Spike felt the man draw his fingers out. Blood ran down his thighs.

"Stop", he tried to scream through the gag. But as the fist pressed into him, he knew there would be no stopping. The knuckles breached him horribly and his body shook so forcibly that the chains were humming in a metallic tight ringing sound. Then the hand itself got shoved in and he felt the ring muscle tear completely. His cry of pure horrified agony rang through the room. The man kept pushing upwards, until Spike felt his intestines rupture and then he couldn't even scream anymore. The agony was too overwhelming. He heard the man pant and moan, smelled his arousal, and felt how the man's fist was pulled back until just the knuckles remained inside him. Then the man pushed up again. And again. And again. Spike gurgled and groaned, thick bloody foam running down his mouth and neck, dripping onto his chest. His eyes rolled back and everything began to blur and blacken…

p /p

p /p

"Spike?" Xander stood in the doorway looking anxious. He was wearing boxers. Had obviously been sleeping. Spike couldn't manage to form a reply. His face was wet and he was gasping with remembered pain and horror.

Xander walked over to the bed and Spike shook violently and took in shuddering lungfuls of air.

A nightmare. T'was all it was. He was here. And Xander was here. It was all in the past. All in the past.

A heavy tremor of terror ran through him and he gasped as once again the nightmare grabbed hold of his mind and abused his senses, filling him with despair. Oh god, it wouldn't go away! He couldn't make it. It wouldn't go. "Please Xander?" he croaked. "Please, could you stay here?" He needed someone. Couldn't get through the night alone. Just couldn't.

"Of course. Sure."

Xander fists were closed so hard the knuckles had gone white. Spike could feel his emotions. Fear, distress, worry. Xander drew in a deep breath.

"I'll get my pillow and comforter." Spike nodded, feeling much too out of it to change what he'd asked for. He sobbed quietly. It was all too much.

Xander came back in. Crawled under the covers. Lay staring at the ceiling for a minute as Spike silently shook. Then Xander's arm reached over and around him and turned him onto his side, his face against Xander's chest. He was pulled into an embrace that felt strong and tight and warm and caring, and he let out a shuddering breath of relief.

Xander's arms tightened further around him and oh, god, it felt so good. He needed this. Needed it so much. He leaned his head forward, burrowing his brow and nose into Xander's skin and sighed. Xander placed a kiss on top of his head and Spike closed his exhausted eyes. Oh yes, this was better. This was so much better. He wanted to be held like this forever. Nothing had felt so bloody good in his entire unlife.

 **Author's note: Oh dear. This was so much worse than I remembered it. Sorry. I'm really, really sorry, There will not be more like this, I promise!** **  
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	15. Chapter 15

He woke up in a cocoon of warmth, comfort, and safety. It felt so wonderful that he wanted to cry. Taking a deep breath instead, he tried to calm down although his mind was positively reeling from all the pleasantness surrounding him.

Only the day before yesterday, he'd been hanging in his chains, aching, starving and alone, waiting for the next bugger to molest him. Hadn't honestly thought he'd ever get away from that place unless it would be as a pile of dust. Had never dared to hope that anyone would come for him. Had certainly never imagined that if that were to happen, his rescuer would be Xander Harris. Nor that he would end up in a soft bed, lying next to the very same Xander Harris and feel close to happy.

Xander's heart beat a steady thrum against his ear and the vibration felt soothing. His slow, deep breaths were warm against Spike's bristled head. In fact, the entire bed felt snug thanks to Xander's delicious warmth… He knew he ought to be oblivious to temperatures. Shouldn't mean one whit to him whether or not he was cold or warm. But he'd always loved being warm. Guess it made him feel more real. But most of all, it was just bloody comfortable. He closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

After a little while of basking, he pulled back to study the man holding him.

Xander had grown up. The boyish look was all but gone. Although his face looked relaxed in his sleep, small lines had begun to show. Fan shaped crinkles around the outer corners of his eyes and the beginnings of thin age lines on his forehead and around his mouth.

Spike considered that mouth for a moment and frowned as he watched it, wondering. He remembered the touch of Xander's lips against his head. They had felt soft. Xander Harris' lips were velvety, who'd have known?

He moved his eyes to study Xander's face again. It was a handsome face now that it had changed into a fully grown man's. Xander hadn't been ugly in his youth but there'd been something goofy about him. Not really sexy, although his demon girl certainly had thought so. But now Xander was much leaner and his facial features, as a result, more angular.

The sunburnt skin indicated that he spent a lot of time outdoors and it looked good on him. Healthy. He was probably still working on construction sites. Spike didn't actually know, of course. They hadn't talked much about anything so far. He'd have to ask him. It felt strange not to know what the man, who'd decided that he was worth rescuing, did for a living. The man who, completely out of the blue, had chosen to take Spike under his wings… arms.

Spike turned his head a bit to study one of those arms, currently draped over his side. It was a strong arm. Sinewy and muscular. Being embraced by it without feeling pain was like a balm to Spike's battered soul.

He sighed again and allowed himself to enjoy the feeling of comfort. He'd been starving at that hellhole. For blood, yes but most of all for care and affection. Lying close and being held like this was nothing short of blissful. He touched his forehead gingerly to the crook of Xander's neck and peeked down at Xander's chest. The boy was quite a lot fitter than he'd been when they'd been living in Sunnydale. Not a trace of fat to be seen anywhere on that torso.

Spike looked down at his own birdlike chest. Pale, skinny, and mostly hairless. In contrast, Xander's chest was lightly covered in brown curly hairs that ended in a thin trail of darker hairs working their way down his flat stomach and ending below the hem of his boxer shorts. Demon girl was missing out. But Anya was dead, wasn't she? At least that's what Xander had said when he'd been swiftly killing Spike's last spark of hope with his hateful words and accusations. Or had that been part of tricking him as well? He didn't know. Couldn't know. He´d been far too shocked to understand much of anything by then. Had only been able to understand that he was about to be raped by someone he'd once known and who hated him more than anything in the whole world. Only, he wasn't raped and Xander apparently didn't hate his guts…

Feeling grateful, Spike settled his head back on their shared pillow. How old was Xander now? He'd told Spike that the year was 2013. That would mean that Xander had to be in his thirties, wouldn't it? This would make him older than Spike had been when he was turned all those many years ago. Not by a lot, but still. It was a strange thought.

He turned his head slightly and looked back up at Xander's face. A lock of brown hair covered most of the empty eye socket. Spike studied the slightly sunken hollow where Xander's eye should have been. _Wish I could have stopped the Priest sooner_ , he thought with an old pang of regret.

Then his gaze slowly moved up to contemplate the hair. It looked decidedly odd. Something must have happened to it when they were magicked away from the brothel. Xander's hair looked as if it had been cut by a bloody lawn mower! Or more to the point, as if it had been singed off, the way the ends were looking all frizzy. Unless of course, Xander's first priority, when he got back had been to go out into his kitchen and hack off bits and pieces of his hair, using a blunt kitchen knife to do the job. Which didn't seem very likely.

He wondered if his own hair had been subjected to the same treatment as Xander's had been? He knew his hair would have had to have been short before Xander came to get him. It couldn't have been more than two, maybe three weeks ago since he'd undergone one of his shavings.

Cautiously, he tried to maneuver his hand under Xander's arm without waking Xander up. It was difficult but bit by bit he managed to do it. He lay resting for a little while, quietly panting from the exertion caused by the motion before he was able to lift his hand all the way up to touch his own head.

His hair, or what was left of it, was a mess. There were patches with hair that had grown long enough to curl a little and other patches with nothing more than bristly stubble. At some places, he could feel near bald spots. He grimaced. Moving his hand a little more, it landed on his right ear. He touched it. The bloody thing felt _huge_ sticking out like that! Bloody hell! He had to be looking like he was completely off his trolley!

Xander had fared a little better.

For one thing, his hair was longer on the left side. As far as Spike could tell, there didn't seem to be any bald spots on that side at all. Xander's right side, or at least the part that Spike was able to see, looked just as short, and singed as his own did. And Xander's ears were smaller than Spike's, he noticed wryly. They didn't protrude like a couple of bleeding satellite dishes… Well… Couldn't be helped. Who did he want to look good for now or ever again anyway? And his hair would grow back… At least he hoped so.

No, the only thing that mattered was that they must have caught on fire when they'd disintegrated. Sounded bloody dangerous. And completely foolhardy of Xander to risk something like that just to save _him_. What had he been thinking? Bloody magic! S'always something wrong with it. Although, albeit grudgingly, Spike had to admit that losing patches of hair was one magical side effect that he'd be willing to accept seeing as how it had saved him.

Slowly, he pulled his hand down and placed it below his chin, resting it against Xander's upper chest. The hairs felt downy against the back of his hand. And Xander smelled good. Safe. Like good old fashioned Virginia pipe tobacco. Or maybe more like sandalwood? Whatever it was it was bloody good.

He snuggled a bit closer as he waited for Xander to stir and wake up. He knew that when that happened, Xander would get up and leave and he'd be left to himself again. Best enjoy the company while he had the opportunity.

Xander blinked and opened his eye. The short hairs on Spike's scalp ticked and scratched his chin. The vampire was pressed tightly against his body and Xander's heart gave a small contended leap. His arm was still around Spike's smaller body.

Spike felt soft despite his skinniness and he was almost warm to the touch. It was a very pleasant way to wake up, Xander decided and smiled. Then he became aware of the fact that Spike was still naked under their covers. In fact, he could feel Spike's soft cock touching his own through the thin material of his boxers.

Any trace of a happy smile evaporated completely from Xander's face. Spike was touching his damn cock that was currently rock hard and doing that typical morning greeting, where all cocks happily and stupidly proclaim that _I'm up and I'm big and I'm beautiful! Come have a look_!

Christ, how awkward and embarrassing was that? So not what Spike needed to feel when he woke up. Jesus! Spike _was_ still asleep, right?

Xander stirred a little to try and get away from him. And was immediately greeted by a quiet whisper of "Morning" from Spike.

Too late to pretend he wasn't sporting a morning stiffy then.

"Morning," he replied and eased back a little more, clearing his throat. Not knowing what else to do, he crooked his neck to look Spike in the eye in order to give him a sincere and heartfelt apology and was met by a pair of very bright, and alert looking eyes, staring right up into his own. Apparently Spike had been awake for a while already. Damn.

On the other hand, Xander noticed with some satisfaction that Spike looked healthier already. The blood had put more color to his face and he wasn't quite as gaunt looking anymore. There were fewer bruises on his face, too. Xander forgot about his silly predicament for a moment and smiled at the sight. He was rewarded with a small hesitant smile from Spike.

"You look great!" Xander announced happily.

Spike frowned and snorted and the smile all but disappeared. He licked his lips and replied quietly "Yeah…I guess. Must've been the sleep…"

He looked away and added in a hushed tone of voice, "Must've been that, I reckon." He looked back up at Xander and his gaze was raw and vulnerable.

"T'was nice of you to stay in here…It helped."

"I'm glad I woke up," Xander replied firmly. "I don't want you to be alone if you're, ehr… if you're not feeling well."

He decided to risk a rejection. Spike should know that he had the opportunity if nothing else.

"Look. If you want me to, I can sleep in here while you're getting better. If it helps you, I mean?"

Spike blinked. He didn't reply right away. Then he whispered "Thanks. I'd like that. It's…"

He chewed on his lip, shaking his head, and turned over to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling not finishing his sentence. As he did so, his left hand accidentally bumped into Xander's morning woody.

"Ah! Sorry, Spike! It's not what you think, it's just… it's early in the morning and I've just woken up and…"

Xander face turned beet red. God, where was a rock when you needed one?

"I know," Spike sighed and continued in a low voice, looking back up at Xander.

"We get them too, you know. They're nothing to feel ashamed about… Besides, I can tell… the difference, I mean. Can smell it on you, you know."

He searched Xander's face with an earnest expression in his eyes and said, "I don't feel threatened by you, Xander."

His words were a giant rock off Xander's shoulders. Relieved, he exhaled a breath he hadn't been aware of holding back and smiled his thanks. Spike didn't smile back but he still had that open, honest look to him.

"Well. Guess, I'm gonna get out of bed now.

"Yeah, guess you do."

Spike turned and looked back up at the ceiling again.

Xander rolled out of bed and despite Spike's reassuring words he turned away from the bed and walked sort of sideways out of the bedroom. Stupid natural phenomenon making all men look like horny idiots in the morning and okay, so he didn't have to feel ashamed about it, but that didn't change the fact that Spike had had his share of men's boners to last him a lifetime…

No need to flaunt one more at him.

 **I would really appreciate if one of you left a comment or something. Give me a hint if you like this story or not. Pretty please?**


	16. Chapter 16

A week had gone by and Xander had bought clothes and crutches for Spike. He'd been standing in the mall wondering what to buy and had ended up buying two pairs of black sweatpants and some dark blue and black t-shirts. He'd also bought some very soft wool slippers that Spike had flat out refused to put on despite the fact that they would have been really warm, and good for his sore damaged feet.

Spike's shins were beginning to fill out and you could see muscles moving instead of sluggish skin hanging down. Spike had been working out every day by simply flexing his ankles. He'd barely been able to move his feet to begin with, but now they were definitely making progress. He hadn't tried standing on his legs yet but they were gonna give it a try later this evening. Xander wasn't planning on letting Spike try out any walking just yet as standing was gonna be more than hard enough. He knew that Spike was impatient but he was worried about how Spike was gonna take it if he tried too hard too soon, and failed. And though Spike had told him that his arms were feeling stronger, Xander didn't think they were quite ready to support Spike's weight yet. So there´d be no dragging oneself around on crutches either if Xander had any say about it. Unless Spike insisted, of course.

He'd been carrying Spike around the apartment so far.

The last couple of days Spike had spent most of his time on the couch in the living room. He preferred staying in there even though the couch wasn't nearly as comfortable as the king size bed. Xander suspected that Spike was bored and happily sat down to watch some TV together with him.

They'd been watching the news on CNN for hours. And sports. Mostly soccer, which Xander endured because Spike seemed to enjoy it. He'd also been showing Spike some of his favorite TV shows which he'd bought on DVD over the last decade such as "Firefly", "How I Met Your Mother", and "Arrested Development". Xander'd actually seen Spike smile a few times out of the corner of his eye. He hadn't heard him laugh yet, but that was okay. A smile was more than okay.

Xander pushed a stray lock of hair away from his face with the back of his arm. He was chopping carrots for tonight's meal which was gonna be a neat little Xander omelet with ham and onions and a small scattering of assorted veggies. Maybe Spike'd like a taste?

He'd been really pleased with the Weetabix, which Xander'd gotten for him a couple of days ago and earlier today, he'd been sitting with the mug of hot cocoa that Xander had prepared for him as a surprise, staring at the mug for a long time. Occasionally closing his eyes and breathing in the sweet scent before finally drinking down the content in slow deep gulps, a reverent look on his face. When he was done, the look of gratitude he'd given Xander had made Xander blush. It still did just from thinking about it. And he kinda wished that he'd had the nerve to point out the little marshmallow chocolate moustache prominent on Spike's upper lip.

 _Chop, chop, chop_. Cooking and especially eating was more fun when you weren't alone and Xander liked to cook. Done with chopping up the last of the carrots, he picked up the chopping board and swept the pieces down into the bowl with an elegant shove of the chopping knife. Damn he was good!

He ran a hand through his new hair. Monday, he'd gone out to get a haircut while he was out shopping for clothes and crutches anyway. "Grilling accident," he'd told the appalled looking hairdresser.

His hair was now cropped short all over except from the hair on top of his head and on his left side which had been trimmed into a shabby, relaxed looking style. The hair fell to his left and covered part of his empty eye socket and looked pretty damn good, actually. He wore his standard head attire of a black eye patch, but the new haircut made it look less piratey. He liked it.

He'd used his trimmer to cut Spike's uneven stubble that same day. Spike's hair grew pretty fast and by Monday morning, there hadn't been any bare spots left. The short hairstyle looked good on him, though Xander could tell that Spike wanted his hair to grow longer, and faster! He smiled to himself. Spike'd always been vain about his hair. Tons of gel and lots of hydrogen peroxide filling up the drawers in his old bathroom back in Sunnydale had proven that for a fact. It pleased him that Spike was feeling bothered by his looks. It was nice to know that he had the energy to care.

Spike often touched his ears as if they were greatly annoying him. Xander didn't know why. They looked perfectly all right to him.

He decided that when Spike's hair had grown a little longer, he would get him some of that bleach and gel stuff. Then Spike could decide for himself whether he wanted to go blonde again or not...

When Spike had asked, Xander had explained him about the fire. He was able to tell a little more about it by then because Willow had been on the phone early Sunday morning. He'd been too tired during that first telephone call after the escape, but now she'd been able to explain why only the hairs on top of their heads had been singed.

As it turned out, she had rushed the spell a bit. Apparently she was the one moving the oily stuff. It hadn't somehow gotten a "mind" of its own as he'd originally thought but had, in fact, been smoothed out over their bodies inch by inch by Willow herself. And her first priority had been to make sure that all of their skin was covered. As well as their body hair because " _you know, sensitive parts_."

At this Xander had had a moment's pause as he considered the intimate implications of that particular piece of information. But Willow had continued on as if it was no biggie and told him that she'd tried to cover the hairs on top of their heads as well but in the end, she'd panicked and decided that there simply wasn't time. Because in order to do so, she would've had to reach out, find and feel each strand of hair on their heads and Xander's hair had been so " _long and thick_." So she'd given up in the middle of the process and instead double checked to make sure that their bodies weren't in any danger of incinerating.

" _I just wanted to get you out, Xander._ "

He'd told her it was okay. More than okay, in fact. She had sounded happy when they had said their good byes and love yous.

When told about it, Spike had nodded and told Xander to thank Red. He'd been mumbling something under his breath afterwards that sounded a lot like "bloody stupid" but Xander hadn't been sure if he'd heard correctly. Anyway Xander'd been happy to thank her from Spike as well when Willow called back only a few days later. She was a good friend.

Right now, Spike was having a bath. The soaking was good on his sore limbs and he'd had one each day since he got here. Xander made sure to spend extra time working the soap into his sparse hair and massaging his scalp while doing so. Spike obviously enjoyed it and Xander did as well. He liked to run his fingers over Spike's head and down the back of his neck to gently massage the shoulders and back. Smiled at Spike's humming noises when he rubbed and massaged the back of his head and his neck as well.

Every day Spike looked better. The lean muscles were becoming more and more prominent and the skin was looking smoother as it slowly filled out. It was pretty damn hard to ignore that beautiful body when he carried Spike to and from his bath. Or when he checked on the wounds. Or when he helped him get dressed or undressed...

All bandages had been removed by now. All that was left were faint red lines and those would soon be gone too. Even the gash on his face had closed up.

At night, they slept together. Xander rolled over as soon as he got into bed and put an arm around Spike and Spike instantly curled up a bit to get closer to Xander. It was nice.

He washed and dried his hands and went out into the hallway and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Ready to come up now?" he asked.

"Yeah," Spike replied.

Xander opened the door and found Spike sitting on the bathroom floor wrapped in one of Xander's huge fluffy bathroom towels.

"Whoa, you managed to get out yourself!" Xander exclaimed. Spike gave a small half smile.

"Yeah, my arms feel good an' my legs were able to help a bit when I pulled myself out of there," Spike replied. "Won't be long now before I'll be able to walk around again."

He let the towel slip so it only covered his lap. "An' I think I can get dressed by myself, too." He looked up at Xander.

"Oh," Xander replied. "Sure, yeah, of course. Want me to grab your clothes for you?"

Spike seemed to think a little about it before he answered. "Yeah, but I think it'll be easier for me if I sit on something. Can you help me get up on the toilet?"

"Sure thing," Xander replied.

So this would be the last he would see of Spike's naked body. Well, _good_ , because it was getting harder not to stare at it, which he knew full well that Spike could sense.

With a little pang of regret, he lifted Spike up and helped him sit down on the toilet. He stood there for a few seconds, feeling wistful. Spike had missed a few drops of water on his back. They were glinting in the bathroom light. Pretty. He pulled himself together and went to get Spike's clothes, cursing himself for a fool.

Spike called for him when he was dressed and Xander congratulated him and carried him back into the living room and placed him on the couch.

Spike sat back and closed his eyes. He rested his head against the back of the couch and Xander watched him quietly. The look on Spike's face was unreadable but for some reason, the silence between them seemed to grow louder. Did Spike want him to stay? Or should he just leave? He'd almost turned around to head back for the kitchen when Spike took a deep breath and whispered "God, Xander. Can't tell you how much this all means to me."

Xander turned around to watch him.

Spike sighed before continuing in a very quiet voice, "I'd never…"

He glanced up at Xander before looking away again and his Adam's apple bobbed. He took another deep breath before going on.

"I never thought I was going to wear clothes again, you know? When you got these for me the other day? You wouldn't understand how much it…"

His voice had changed and sounded husky and he had to clear his throat in order to continue. "An' just now being able to dress myself again…" He looked back up at Xander. "I'm so bloody grateful, Xander. Thank you."

Xander slowly sat down next to him.

"It's good to see you like this again, Spike. Dressed and… healthier…"

He bit his lip. "Look, I know I can't imagine what you've been through but what I saw," Now, it was Xander's turn to take a deep breath.

"I wanted to throw up. I wanted to hit something. Wanted to kill those bastards! Wish I could have… But… I'm really relieved that you're happy again."

"Happy?" Spike said in a barely audible voice as if trying out the word. He bit his cheek and swallowed. It didn't seem as if he quite liked the flavor.

He covered his mouth with his hand, which he had clenched into a fist as if he was about to cough or throw up. The hand was shaking. In fact, Spike's entire body was shaking. Spike put his hand slowly back down into his lap and turned to look at Xander with a grave expression. His eyes seemed far older than the hundred or so years that were already weighing them down.

"What I'm happy about is that you didn't try anything stupid, Xander. They would've killed you 'fore you got a chance to get away. You did good, pet. You got me out… An' you've been bloody kind to me. No one's ever been this kind to me. Did you know that? Did you know how much that means to me?"

Spike's gaze was very intense and Xander looked away, nervously fiddling with a loose thread on the couch before replying.

"You deserve it," he simply said.

He lifted his head and looked back at Spike. "You're a good man… And I want you to know that I know that I didn't give you a chance back then. In Sunnydale, I mean. I knew you'd changed. Even before your soul. And after… I knew! But I never told you. Been regretting that for a long time now and... I think you're a hero, Spike. A champion and," Xander drew in a steadying breath and continued because he had to say this. "And what was done to you. To _you_ – was just so wrong. I couldn't have lived with myself if anything had gone wrong that night at the brothel. I knew that before I saw you on that fucking screen. Before I heard how they…"

He shook his head trying to get rid of the memory of the lewd, demeaning comments which the guards had been using about Spike.

"I'm just so sorry for what's been done to you," he whispered.

Spike was picking at his nails, looking withdrawn and bleak. After some seconds in silence, Spike slowly looked up.

"Well, pet," he said. "Don't know if I'll ever be able to forget it. Don't think I can… I _changed_ down there, Xander. I… lost myself… Sold myself for petty acts of mercy. And now I'm… filth."

He let go of his nails and lifted up his shaking hands, spreading out his fingers.

"All I see is filth. Corruption. I can hear them, feel them. But most of all, I can hear myself _giving in_ to them. Offering myself… _Begging_!"

He spat the last word out.

He squeezed his eyes shut and threw back his head in disgust. The muscles in his cheeks flexed. When he opened his eyes again, they were red. He glanced at Xander and Xander tried to swallow but couldn't quite do it. His throat was closing up, a burning of discomfort filling it, and his heart was aching.

Spike stared distantly at the floor.

"M' not happy," he said. "Don't know if I ever was. But I do know that I'll never be what I was. 'Cause what I was, was just an act. Down there, it was all laid out in the open. They tore me apart until the real me was all that's left."

His jaw muscles worked before he continued.

"An' the _real me_ is a pathetic. Frightened. Poncy. Whore!"

The last word was nearly a shout and a tear rolled down and landed on the edge of his cheek bone.

" _See_?" he shouted angrily pointing at the drop of salt water before rubbing it away furiously with the back of his hand.

" _This_ is what I am," he almost roared. "A bloody cry baby good for nothing but gettin' it up his arse! _Happily_ doing so if it means, I won't get beaten bloody or worse. An' you know it 'cause you saw it for yourself!"

His face crumbled and he sank down, covering his face with his hands. Then he made a strangled, disgusted sound and turned away, hugging himself tightly. He was shaking, and Xander couldn't bear it. He leaned forward and grabbed Spike's arms. Pulled them away from their tight grip before taking hold of Spike's shoulders and turning him around to face him.

"Listen to me. You're not pathetic, Spike! And you are not filthy or a whore or a coward, you hear me? ANY man in your position would've done what you did. What you HAD to do!"

He shook Spike a little to emphasize his words.

"Please Spike, don't do this to yourself. Don't let them! They aren't worth it. You're a goddamn hero, and a good man. And you deserve to be treated with love and respect. I won't have you think any differently 'cause it's wrong!"

Spike blinked and his eyes stared helplessly and lost at Xander. More tears trickled down his cheeks and Xander pressed his forehead hard against Spike's. Now he was crying too, fuck. He gathered Spike in his arms and pulled him in for a tight embrace. Spike tensed a little, but he didn't pull away. Xander squeezed him in order to steady him. A small hitching sound of misery escaped from Spike's lips and Xander bowed his head and let his cheek rest against Spike's. He rubbed it lightly against Spike's trying to comfort him as best he could.

Knowing that Spike was in so much pain was breaking his heart. If only he could make the hurt go away. It was so damn unjust, and he felt so damn lost and stupidly began to weep as well! He felt Spike's arms come around to encircle him. Hesitantly at first, but then they grabbed hold of him for real and the two of them were hugging and holding on to each other tightly. Xander gently rocked them to and fro. Or maybe Spike did.

When they finally drew apart, Xander looked sadly at Spike's wet face and red eyes. He rubbed off some of the tears with his thumb and reached back behind Spike's neck and pulled Spike forward and placed a small, tender kiss of comfort on his brow and moved to place one on his lips as well. It was only meant as comfort, but Spike's eyes flew wide open and met Xander's briefly, before he made a desperate sound. He groaned into Xander's mouth and kissed back.

It was a violent kiss. Hard and almost painful. For a second, Xander wanted to pull back. But when Spike's hands grabbed hold of his arms and Spike's lips kissed his in earnest, it was hard to stop anything. Spike's whimpering gasps in between his kisses sounded desperate. All Xander could do was feel and follow, and give Spike what he needed.

He kissed Spike's eyelids, and cheeks. Kissed his temples, and nose, and his jaw line. Kissed his chin and earlobes and Spike reciprocated with a fervor that left Xander breathless.

They let go of their arms and held on to each other's shoulders and necks now, kissing and kissing, and moaning. Spike couldn't seem to get enough and Xander's mind was reeling. He felt Spike cup his face and nuzzle his jaw as he in turn began kissing a soft line from the corner of Spike's scarred eyebrow to his ear and back again to his nose. When he was nearly there, he was met by Spike's hungry mouth covering his own instead. Spike's tongue pushed in and swept over Xander's. Now it was Xander's turn to groan out loudly as their tongues were tangling, lips sliding over smooth surfaces, and faces constantly turning and twisting in order to reach each other as deeply and as thoroughly as possible.

They were both whimpering and Xander had to pull away in order to catch his breath and Spike moaned desperately and panted into his ear

"God, Xander, oh, god, I need this. Need this so much. Please. Don't stop. Oh god…"

Spike kept on begging, his hands digging into Xander's shoulders, waiting for Xander to catch his breath. As soon as he had, Spike was all over him, kissing him desperately and almost aggressively before pushing him down on the couch. Spike reached down and tore off his shirt before leaning down and grabbing hold of Xander's shirt and ripping it in halves in order to be able to press his face, his lips, his chest, and his hands against Xander's body in frantic searching motions. His hands roamed over Xander and Xander felt Spike's hard cock pressing into his thigh and he groaned and arched his body to get closer to Spike.

His own cock had gone just as hard as Spike's and his pants had become moist where the tip of his cock touched the fabric. He could feel Spike lick and nip at his neck and shoulders, and oh, god, suck at his nipples and his eye rolled back in ecstasy. Spike's hand glided down to cup and rub at the bulge in Xander's pants as he continued to gasp and kiss and fondle. Xander groaned and threw his head back, arching up again and nearly coming from the overwhelming sensations.

"So warm," Spike gasped in between kisses. "So kind… So… bloody nice to me… You're so… You're so… You're…"

Abruptly, his ragged sounding voice stopped. He took a long shuddering breath and then "Oh. Oh, no! Oh god, what am I doing?" Spike moaned and stopped moving altogether.

Still gasping, he pressed his forehead hard against Xander's chest and moved his hand away from Xander's crotch to squeeze and hold on tightly, almost painfully on Xander's thigh.

He lay panting for a moment, his whole body shaking before whispering in between gasps

"Sorry. So sorry…God, I can't… Xander, I'm so sorry…"

He sniffed. "Xander, please," he whispered and there was such despair in that whisper. "Please? Just… Please, don't let go of me."

"I won't," Xander whispered and he placed his hands firmly on Spike's back, curling his fingers so that they dug lightly into the skin. Spike sighed in relief and his tight grip on Xander's thigh loosened as all the built up tension seemed to leave him entirely. He collapsed down onto Xander's chest and Xander increased the pressure from his hands on Spike's back. _I'll hold you as long as you need me to_ , he thought. I d _on't fucking wanna let you go_.

They lay still then. Spike halfway on top of Xander, his cheek pressed against Xander's chest and his hands resting on Xander's sides and Xander rubbing Spike's back in gentle, soothing, firm motions. Gradually their breathing quieted down. Their erections wilted away. Who passed out first in an exhausted sleep was impossible to say.


	17. Chapter 17

Xander woke up with a rumbling stomach. He was still lying on his back on the couch but Spike wasn't anywhere to be seen. He looked blearily at his watch. Nearly 10 p.m. Fuck. He rubbed his face and pushed himself up into a sitting position and lifted his feet off of the couch.

He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and covered his head with his hands. _Shit_! He'd gone too far. Hadn't been able to stop when Spike had reciprocated that kiss. It was supposed to be nothing more than a chaste peck of comfort. And it had felt like the right thing to do when he'd leaned in to do it and he'd certainly never meant for it to turn into caresses, and moans and tongues, and hands.

But he'd gone along anyway, because it had felt so fucking great. Although he knew that Spike was traumatized and emotionally out of balance and couldn't want what was happening. Perfectly aware that Spike needed all the comfort and gentle attention that could be lavished on him, but not sex! And it was too late now. He hadn't even been the one who'd stopped it. Spike had had to do that all by himself. _Fuck_! He groaned into his hands, frustrated and feeling guilty and ashamed beyond words.

Shakily, he got up and stood there for a few seconds, uncertain about what to do next. He'd woken up hungry but now he'd lost his appetite. He sighed unhappily. Spike's t-shirt was lying crumpled on the floor. He gathered his own torn shirt about him, feeling miserable and lousy. Where had Spike gone to when he'd left? And how? And what if he'd been so upset about what Xander'd made him do, that he'd done something to harm himself? What if he'd somehow managed to kill himself? In a near panic, Xander all but ran into the bedroom.

And found Spike lying on his stomach on the floor just inside the bedroom door. His feet towards the bed, his head towards the open door. He was sleeping with his head resting on his arms. The covers on the bed were lying in a heap on the floor.

Xander licked his lips and swallowed nervously. Christ. Spike had dragged himself all the way in here trying to get as far away from Xander as possible. How was he ever gonna make up for this? How was Spike ever gonna trust him again? He leaned back against the wall. His legs were shaking badly and he sank ungracefully to the floor with a thunk when his knees refused to hold him. He leaned his head back against the wall and felt like the complete and utter piece of shit that he was. _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_ He bowed his head in shame and rubbed at it with his hands in tired worn out motions.

Christ he was such a loser! Such a fucking egotistic loser! It had taken one week to prove that for a fact.

 _Sure, Spike. I'll take good care of you. Yes, Spike, I'll make you forget all about those assholes that used you and abused you and just wanted your body. Don't you worry about a thing, Spike! You're safe here with me 'cause I'm nothing like that!_

When he looked up through his fingers, he was met by Spike's piercing eyes. He let his hands fall down limply down.

"Spike, look…" he began, his voice faltering. He licked his lips and cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, man. I'm so sorry. I got carried away and I shouldn't have. I'm so, so sorry."

Spike lifted his head a bit and frowned at Xander. His gaze flickered.

"Yeah? Well," he said. "I'm…"

He frowned and tilted his head a bit before saying " _You_ 're sorry?"

He shook his head.

"Don't know what you're sorry about. It was me who… I'm all bollixed up, Xander. Don't know what to do an' what not to do any longer. S'been so bloody long an'… an' I just don't know anymore. I read too much in what I sense from you. Go too bloody emotional. Too needy. It's just… It's all a mess in here, inside my mind. I _know_ that! But I honestly don't know what you're sorry for? You didn't do anything wrong, pet. It's me who's the sick bastard, not you."

Xander snorted.

"And that's why you left me on the couch and dragged yourself back on your fucking _arms_ all the way back in here? Why you tried to get up on the bed and hide under the covers? Yeah, right, Spike! You know, I appreciate that you're trying to take the blame but I know about the Stockholm syndrome, and PTSD, and even I am not that stupid anyway. I _used_ you! When you started kissing me back, I took advantage. I wanted you and I know that you sensed that. That you reacted to it. But you don't have to do anything that you don't wanna do! And I know you don't want me. I'm _Donut Boy_ , the Zeppo, remember!" He snorted angrily. "Hey, you don't want me or any other man and I don't blame you. But right then and there, I just didn't care and you acted on it. It's what you've been forced to do for so damn long. What you felt you had to do, I guess. No wonder you stopped when you realized what was happening."

He took a deep needed breath of air.

"Fuck, I'm such an asshole, Spike! But I swear to you, I don't wanna use you or take advantage of you. And I won't ever put you or myself in such a situation again. You gotta believe me. Please?"

Spike looked at him, frowning, his mouth half open. Then he shook his head.

"No! Yes. I believe you and no, you got it all wrong. You listen to me now. I _dragged_ myself back to bed and tried to get up on it, yeah! But not to get away from you! I wanted to get away so that you wouldn't have to look at _me_ first thing you woke up and remembered what I nearly made you do! I know you don't want _that_ , Xander! Know you're into girls. Know that what I sense from you is affection and care and I'm bloody grateful for that! Haven't sensed affection for so bloody long, and it's like bleeding ambrosia to me! Don't know how to separate one feeling from those other ones. Those you don't really feel for me. Those of lust or want or need. An' I got them wrong when you kissed me! Bloody hell, Xander! An' when I couldn't get up on that sodding huge bed of yours, I had to lie there on the floor, feeling like a bleeding idiot! Had time to think then, didn't I? And I realized that I had to get my sorry poncy arse back to you an' apologize soon as you woke up! Was just too bloody exhausted to make it any farther than here, that's all! Must've passed out on my way. _Bugger!_ "

Spike pushed himself onto his back and threw his arm over his head.

Now it was Xander's turn to blink and stare. He pulled his knees up and hugged them as he sat there trying to process what'd been said. Spike had wanted to apologize to him? Because _Spike_ had felt bad? Wow, that was just… That was just about the most idiotic thing Xander had ever heard. Spike felt bad for having turned _him_ on _?_ Xander wanted to laugh. It was so fucking absurd. There was nothing that he wanted more than to be with Spike. He fucking _loved_ the man! He paused.

Yeah, that was the truth, wasn't it? He was in love with Spike and Christ, did he want to be with him! Kiss him. Taste him. Make love to him. What he wouldn't give to be allowed to make Spike feel so freaking good that he might, if only just for a few seconds, be able to forget all the wrongs that'd been done to him.

Xander sighed.

He was still Donut boy and he shouldn't forget that. As Spike had said, Spike's head was a mess. When Spike was feeling better physically and mentally, he would realize that he didn't need anything from Xander and certainly not tender kisses and lovemaking! Would probably think back on the couch incident feeling like a complete fool because how far out was it that Spike had wanted to touch and kiss Xander in the first place?

But maybe, hopefully, Spike would be able to forgive him and forget about it and they could still be friends? Xander would really like that. As much as he wanted Spike to get better, he knew that it would be hard not to have him around any longer.

"Xander?" Spike asked in a tired voice.

"You must be bloody hungry. I know I am. Let's… Let's just get something to eat and tomorrow we'll get to work with getting me back on my bloody legs again, all right?"

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

A couple of weeks had gone by and Xander was back at work.

Spike and he hadn't talked more about what had happened between them that night but Xander no longer slept in the bedroom. Spike hadn't said anything about wanting him to stay, when Xander had carried his pillow and comforter back into the living room that same night after having tucked Spike in. All Spike'd done was to turn his back on Xander as Xander had picked up his stuff from the bed. It was the wise thing to do, then. It made Xander feel completely unhappy and alone, but it couldn't be helped.

Spike had been training adamantly on his own using his crutches every day since then and was now able to walk around the apartment, using only one crutch.

Last Monday, when Xander had gotten back home from his first day of work, Spike had worn a clumsy bandage made from a rag tied around his foot and there'd been traces of blood on the kitchen floor. A glass had been lying in shatters among the blood smears on the floor. It had been one of those tall ones, standing right next to the mugs up in his wall cupboard. Spike had mumbled an apology and told Xander that he'd dropped one of the crutches and lost his step when he'd tried to heat up some blood for breakfast and accidentally hit the glass on the shelf. He'd tried to clean it up but, as he said, it'd been "too bloody difficult what with the crutches an' all."

Xander hadn't known what to say. Because whenever he wanted to comfort Spike, it just didn't work out the way he wanted it to, did it? He could hardly look at Spike without blushing or without his heart beginning to pick up speed. Everything was just so fucking awkward. So he'd just shrugged and cleaned up the mess and offered to take a look at Spike's foot which Spike had refused. Xander was angry at himself for not having prepared a thermo for Spike with mugs standing ready on the counter in the first place. Since that day, he'd made sure that heated blood and mugs were easily assessable.

But now it really didn't matter because Spike didn't need any help from Xander anymore. He could move around and dress and bathe all by himself. That was great of course, but it also meant that Xander had no reason for touching Spike and Xander missed touching him. He'd liked the feeling of Spike's body relaxing as soon as Xander put his arms around him. Known that Spike hadn't minded those hugs and small gentle caresses.

And he could see that Spike wasn't doing great even though his physical state was improving.

Sometimes, he looked so goddamn lost and vulnerable and Xander wished he could just walk over to him and at least put a hand on his shoulder to let him know that he wasn't alone. But he didn't.

They hardly looked at one another anymore, and nearly didn't talk when they sat in the living room watching TV. In a way, it was like living together in Sunnydale again only worse.

Whenever Spike accidentally made actual eye contact with Xander, Xander's heart jolted painfully in his chest. His pulse sped up and he had to bite his lip to keep from stuttering an apology for being so attracted to Spike. It was like being back in high school again. He felt so fucking insecure and out of place all the time.

But it hurt to watch Spike and not be able to truly talk to him.

It hurt that he was no longer able to reach out and give Spike a hug whenever he could see that Spike was in need of one. Because even though Spike's blue eyes were clearly miserable, he never asked for any comfort and so Xander couldn't give any to him.

Day in and day out, all he could think of and worry about was Spike. For instance, what was Spike thinking when he was sitting on the couch with the TV turned off, watching the floor and picking at his nails absentmindedly? And how did Spike feel at night all by himself? Did he still wake up from bad dreams? He had to, didn't he? Nearly ten years of nothing but hurt and abuse would have to mess up one's subconscious pretty bad.

He'd told Xander that affection was like ambrosia to him. And now he didn't get any at all because of what had happened.

When Xander tossed and turned on the couch all by himself, trying to fall asleep, he felt brokenhearted but Spike had to feel much worse than that petty feeling. Of course Spike didn't want _Xander's_ affection. He needed someone he cared for to give him what he needed. Still, it was damn hard to keep away from the bedroom. And how did Spike keep himself warm now that Xander wasn't there to heat up the covers for him? He'd liked that. Xander was sure of it. And what did Spike think when Xander caught him staring at Xander during dinner time? That he couldn't wait till he was able to leave this place? Or how about, when he in turn caught Xander staring at him?

Christ, everything was horrible and awkward and distressing as hell. If he wouldn't miss Spike so damn much, it would almost be a relief to see him go. And that was sure to happen any day now.


	18. Chapter 18

Another long day at work was over and Xander was heading home.

Spike had been able to walk unaided for days now and Xander had bought him a pair of Docs to celebrate it and to try and lure Spike outside without asking him outright to do so. Maybe Xander should have simply asked him but it seemed pushy somehow. So far Spike hadn't seemed to want to venture outside but it was hard to tell what he wanted or not because he didn't say much of anything. Not that Xander said much to him either.

Xander sighed. His bleak mood had been commented on at work today during lunch break. One of his co-workers, a guy named Phil had asked him what was wrong? At first, he'd tried to brush it off by telling a little white lie about an upset stomach but Phil had given him a very skeptical look and he'd crumbled and kinda wanted to weep. Thank god, he hadn't! But he'd told Phil everything. Well, as much as he could.

He hadn't mentioned Spike being a vampire or a former sex slave but he'd admitted to being hopelessly in love with this guy that he'd known since puberty, who was currently sharing his apartment and that his feelings weren't returned.

Phil was a good guy. He didn't make any derogatory remarks about Xander being gay so Xander'd continued and told him how he'd known that his friend was having a rough time, was suffering from PTSD and about the kissing initiated by Xander. And about how awkward they had been around each other ever since.

Phil'd patted Xander on the shoulder as Xander'd sniffed and blown his stupid running nose.

"You know," Phil had said, "from you've told me you can't know what your friend is feeling because you obviously haven't talked about it. And from what I hear, sounds like your friend enjoyed that kissing, traumatized or not. Go home and talk to him, Xander! Right now all you're doing's wasting your time and worrying for no good reason and that's just plain stupid."

Phil was wrong of course because he only knew part of the truth but it'd been good to let it all out. Had been good to tell somebody that he was in love, even though it sucked.

Instead of going straight back home to his apartment, he'd decided to give Willow a call. He and Willow had talked several times during the weeks, that Spike'd been living with Xander but Spike had always been around and consequently Xander hadn't been able to tell her about what had happened or how he felt for Spike or how unhappy he was about it. All he'd been able to do was to tell her about Spike's recovery as it gradually improved. Spike had talked to her as well a few times. He hadn't said anything either. So Willow didn't have a clue as to what was really going on and that didn't feel right. He wasn't used to keeping secrets from Willow.

Xander'd parked his car and called her. It had been embarrassing in a way. Of course Willow knew about Xander being bi but for him to have fallen in love with Spike of all people was just, well weird.

But Willow didn't seem to think so. In fact, she'd told him that if she wasn't into girls, she could easily see why Xander would be attracted to Spike.

"He's hot, Xander! And he's so different now. He was really a decent guy towards the end that last year and Xander, he's a vampire. I don't think he's homophobic. It isn't in their nature. You should read some of the reports on vampires' sexuality. They are not boring, I tell you!"

She had sighed and become more serious.

"I think he's hurting, Xander. From what you've told me, he needs you. And he's always been a cuddly type. I know it sounds weird but did you know that he and Buffy slept in each other's arms those last nights? Not doing anything but just holding each other?"

No, Xander hadn't known but now that he knew Spike better, it made perfect sense. Spike did like to cuddle.

"Tell you what, sweetie. I think you should get your butt back home and just hold out your arms. I bet he'll come to you willingly. And then, just take it from there, okay? You're a great guy, Xander and there's no reason why he shouldn't trust you. Or why he shouldn't like you. I don't know if he likes you _that_ way, but I do know that you've gotta be the one to open up, Mister! He's been through so much already and you can't expect him to do it. You shouldn't!"

He hadn't known what to say. It was so freaking scary what Willow suggested. But in a way, he knew that she was right. Spike did need that hug. And they sure as hell needed to be able to talk. Spike was having a hard time. The dark rings under his eyes matching Xander's showed that he didn't sleep well for one thing. Xander didn't think he was eating enough either. At least not compared to what he used to eat when they were both living in Sunnydale. All in all, Spike probably felt like hell.

¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤ ¤

He locked himself in. Left his coat on the hanger. Went out into the bathroom. Relieved himself, shaved and took his usual quick afternoon shower in order to wash off all the dirt and sweat from a long day of work.

He looked into the mirror. Freshly shaven and washed, he still looked like shit.

He grimaced and put on the set of clean clothes which he always left ready for when he came home from work and steeled himself. Picked up the eye patch. Put it down again. He never used it at home anyway. He gave himself one more cursory look in the mirror and went into the living room to bare his soul. Or make a fool out of himself. Probably both.

As expected Spike was sitting on the couch. The TV wasn't turned on, he was just sitting there, one arm flung over the back of the couch. He was wearing his jeans and one of Xander's long sleeved t-shirts. The red one. His feet were bare like Xander's. His hair was curly and bleached. He'd done that a few days ago. Didn't have any gel in it. He looked positively scrumptious. And lost and very much alone.

Xander swallowed and said "Hey," in a quiet voice.

Spike looked up.

 _All right, here goes nothing_. Xander spread out his arms in an open gesture. Spike frowned and his mouth opened a bit. Something passed over his face and he looked uncertain, scared even. _Bet you're not as scared as me!_ Xander thought helplessly.

He took a step forward and it looked as if Spike's face paled or would have if it could.

He took another step forward; in fact he managed to walk all the way over to the couch and sink to his knees in front of Spike. Spike eyes were huge and unblinking. He stared at Xander as if Xander had somehow sprouted horns, and for a second, Xander had the ugly sensation that this was another big mistake of his. But before that thought was completed, Spike leaned forward so fast that Xander gasped. Spike flung his arms around him and squeezed him so hard, he could hardly breathe. He hugged Spike back just as fiercely.

"I'm sorry, Spike," he whispered. "I've been such a fool. But I need you. And if you need me too, I'm here for you."

"I do," Spike gasped.

"I can't do this on my own, Xan. An' I'm sorry too. For needing you. For scaring you off. Never meant to come on to you like that. Told you, my head was a mess. Still is pet, but I can't get better an' out of your hair all by myself. I just can't."

"You won't have to. I'm so fucking sorry for what happened that night. Sorry for what I made you do. And for these past weeks. But... I can't lie to you anymore. Don't _wanna_ lie to you! I…"

He glanced up to find Spike frowning worryingly at him.

"This is... _shit_ , I just have to say this, you know? And you don't wanna hear it but I think I'm… No, I _know_ that I've fallen in love with you."

 _There_.

He'd said it. Couldn't be around Spike and treat him like he deserved if Spike didn't know about this. And as he'd feared, Spike immediately pulled away.

"In _love_ with me?" he said.

Xander's face heated. He looked down.

"Yeah. I'm sorry Spike. I really am... Everybody knows that I'm bi. Except for you of course. And considering what you've been through, it isn't fair that you don't know. Especially now that I've..."

He took a deep breath.

"You should have the choice of finding somewhere safe to stay where that won't be an issue. Where you don't have to feel trapped… with another man, I mean. But I promise, I'm not gonna…"

His words were abruptly cut off as Spike grabbed his chin and lifted up his face. Spike was frowning at him, his lips pursed.

"So," Spike said. "So what I was feeling from you, _am_ feeling right now, it's true, then? You have the hots for me?"

A small smirk worked its way into his features. _Christ,_ his eyes were stunning. And those lips. Man, how Xander wanted to kiss them!

"Yeah," he replied brokenly instead. "Know it's gross to you but…"

"Gross?" Spike looked at him, still frowning. " _I_ would find it gross that someone like you would fall in love with me?"

He shook his head and looked up at the ceiling before looking back down at Xander again.

"Pet, you know what it makes me feel? It makes me feel bloody lucky, is what it does. God knows I need to be around someone who cares about me. And to hear you say that you bloody _love_ me is… If anyone can help me get back on track, it's you, Xander. I don't want anybody else to do it, I…"

His voice broke. He suddenly looked very young and scared.

"It makes me almost happy," he whispered.

"Yeah?" Xander whispered.

"Yeah," Spike whispered back and burrowed into Xander's embrace once more. They held on to each other. Xander's mind was spinning. Christ, Spike hadn't run away screaming.

He took a deep whiff and hugged Spike closer. _Mmm_ , Spike smelled delicious.

He allowed for his nose to touch Spike's neck just a little bit. Spike's skin felt cool and soft and he sighed out loud in happy satisfaction. Spike made a sound he couldn't quite decipher and tilted his head a bit, making Xander's head fall even closer towards him. Xander allowed his cheek to slowly touch that soft, cool crook between Spike's neck and shoulders and closed his eyes.

God, this felt good.

He could feel Spike move a bit and copy the posture. That felt even better. He felt Spike's cheek carefully touch his neck. Heard Spike hum quietly in satisfaction just like he'd done. Christ, this was so much more than he'd hoped for.

"Xander?" Spike whispered. "Missed that warmth, pet. Think I missed you."

Xander nodded.

He wanted to hug Spike tighter, give him some of that warmth but his knees were protesting from staying on the floor for so long so he got up and handed Spike his hand.

As soon as Spike took it and rose from the couch, something warm shot up through Xander's arm and seemed to leap straight into his heart. It swelled and he nearly swayed from the sensation, feeling dizzy and completely and utterly overcome with emotion.

They'd never held hands before and Spike's hand in his just felt so _right_. Christ, he'd never sensed such a rush just from holding somebody's _hand_! His heart thumbed heavily in his chest and he lifted his head in wonder, eye wide and stared at Spike who was lifting his head slowly too. Their eyes met. He couldn't say what Spike saw in his eye but what he saw in Spike's face made him gasp.

Spike opened his mouth as if to say something but nothing came out. His breath did that little hitch it sometimes did and he shuddered just barely. Xander smiled. In fact, he could feel his smile broaden until he was grinning like a fool. To his amazement, Spike smiled back.

They ended up in the bedroom and Spike let go of his hand and sat down on the bed. He closed his eyes as his fingers curled around the edge of the mattress, knuckles going white. His chest was moving up and down as if he'd been running. He swallowed and the muscles in his cheek worked. He licked his lips and lifted his head, eyes pinning Xander to the spot. Xander's own breath was just as uneven. His hand was still tingling where Spike's had touched it and his pants were clearly showing just how that touch had affected him. Spike's lips twitched a little before his expression changed and became serious. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again they looked vulnerable but determined all the same.

"Naked," Spike said in a low voice. "Want to see you naked, pet."

Xander stared at him and swallowed nervously. But he didn't look away from Spike's gaze as he slowly began to unbutton his polo and lifted it up and over his head. Spike ran his eyes down his chest and Xander could feel his face heat as his cock hardened further.

"All of it," Spike whispered. "Off."

Spike's nostrils flared and his chest moved up and down as he looked at Xander. Xander's blood was rushing through his veins and he scanned Spike face for some sort of sign. The intensity of Spike's gaze decided what he had to do and Xander unbuttoned his pants and moved to unzip his fly before he once again halted. He licked his lips and looked back up at Spike searching for a final permission.

"Don't stop," Spike whispered. "Want to see you."

Xander swallowed and slid his jeans and boxers all the way down and stepped out of them. He stood there in front of Spike. Not hiding. Couldn't hide himself from that piercing gaze even if he wanted to.

Spike looked at him. Really _looked_ at him. At first his expression was tense but then some of the tension gradually left as he seemed to get used to the sight. His fingers loosened their tight grip on the bed and he licked his lips. "Touch yourself, Xander," he said and looked up shortly at Xander's eye and away again. Xander's lips parted. He had to blink rapidly as he moved his hand and took hold of his cock. He stroked it slowly. It had become long and hard and holding it like this in front of Spike was transcending anything remotely real. He bit his lower lip afraid that Spike would find him repulsive. Still, he peered at Spike through his lashes. Spike's eyes were fixed on Xander's hand stroking himself, his lips were parted as well and he was panting. His hand was hovering slightly over the growing bulge in his own pants. It was shaking.

Xander watched as it slowly came down to rest on the bulge. Saw Spike take in a sobbing breath. Watched as Spike closed his eyes and cupped himself more firmly. Watched in awe as he saw something like pain, and then like utter relief flutter through Spike's beautiful features. Gingerly, Spike's hand rubbed the straining fabric. Xander grabbed himself firmly in order not come right then and there. Watching Spike like this was quite simply the most sexy and liberating sight Xander had ever witnessed. He bit his lip hard when Spike moved to unbutton his pants. Nearly whimpered when Spike's hand closed around himself. Xander squeezed his own cock _hard_ , now. Spike's eyes were still closed and he was panting as he continued to caress himself slowly. Shit, Xander couldn't take it anymore. "Fuck, Spike, you look so beautiful," he whispered. "I'm gonna come just from looking at you." Spike didn't reply but he opened his eyes and got up slowly and pulled off his t-shirt. Then he pushed his jeans all the way down and off. He was shaking a little, which gave a little painful twinge in Xander's heart and made his cock falter a bit but even so Spike still looked too damn hot for Xander's hard on to wilt completely. Spike's cock was semi erect, and long and pale and beautiful. Spike was breathing in short, shallow puffs and he had an oddly decisive look on his face, despite the faint tremors in his body.

"Good," Spike replied and did another one of those short and deep inhalations, that ended in a hitch and made his shoulders shudder. "I want to see you come. In bed. With me."

And he reached out and took Xander by the arm and dragged him onto the bed. Xander followed without hesitation and was guided onto his back by Spike's hands. "Xander," Spike whispered. "Xander," and he crawled closer and draped himself over Xander's body. Xander groaned. _Fuck, ah, fuck_.

"So bloody warm," Spike whispered and closed his eyes as he lowered his head to lie down fully on top of Xander.

Their cocks were touching and Xander arched his back a little and squeezed his eye shut. _Christ!_ Oh, god! Spike's body felt lithe and cool and perfect. Gingerly Xander placed his hands on Spike's ass. The skin was cool and he delighted in how quickly it warmed to his touch and he spread out his fingers to cover as much of it as he could. Spike moaned a little. He squeezed the globes lightly not daring to do too much and oh, Christ, he was gonna come just from this too and he heard himself groan. Soft lips on his own shut him up. Closemouthed, soft kisses. Xander opened his eye and moved his hands away from Spike's ass and placed them on his back instead and pressed equally soft kisses onto Spike's mouth. God, Spike's lips were soft. So fucking soft. They parted a little and their kisses turned slightly more daring. Tongues carefully traced lips and teeth. Tasted. Spike was looking at him now and his eyes looked serious and questioning. Xander deepened the kiss and watched as Spike's eyes slowly closed again. Fuck, his whole body felt like it was on fire. And Spike's cool tongue ran around his and it was unbelievable. God, he needed more. He wanted to show Spike how much he valued him. Wanted to hear and feel him unravel beneath him.

Xander gently rolled them over and continued kissing Spike's face, tracing the muscles in Spike's arm with his free hand, moving it down to caress Spike's fingers, one by one. He let go and caressed Spike's hip as he closed his eye and worshiped Spike's mouth in earnest. He opened his eye and saw that Spike had a pained frown on his forehead even though he didn't stop their kissing. Xander could feel that Spike's body had grown a little tense and he eased back.

"Please," he whispered. "Let me touch you like this. Let me," and he kissed Spike's nipple, "let me taste you like this."

Spike made a small whimper.

"Not gonna do anything you don't want me to," Xander whispered and licked the other small nipple.

"Not gonna push you into anything."

He licked his way back to the first nipple. He traced his tongue around the soft, puckered skin, felt it tighten and become hard and bit it lightly. He let go and lifted his head and looked at Spike. Spike was breathing through his mouth, panting. His eyes were half closed and glazed. Xander dragged himself up so that he was eye to eye with Spike.

"Spike?" he whispered. "Are you okay with this?"

Spike's eyes slowly turned to meet his.

"Help me," he whispered. "Please, please don't stop. I need this. Need you. Help me?"

Xander nodded and bowed his head and pressed his lips to Spike's open, panting mouth, and Spike groaned. His hands shot up and forced Xander's face down, meshing their mouths together. Xander traced his tongue over Spike's teeth and plunged his tongue deep inside and Spike moaned and kissed him back once more.

"You're wonderful," Xander whispered. "I love you," and was rewarded with a sobbing, desperate groan. "Please, Xander!"

Xander gently cupped Spike's head, while straddling him and kissed every smooth angle on that beautiful face. He stopped and kissed Spike deeply once more and was rewarded with another groan. Fuck, a man could drown in those kisses! Almost reluctant to let go, he raised himself up in a sitting, straddling position. Saw how Spike's hands were back at gripping the sheets tightly. "Spike," he whispered. "Spike, I'm gonna make you come now. Wanna make you come so bad and it'll be so good for you." "Nngh," was the only reply, Spike managed as he arched upwards, still holding on to the sheets. Xander slid downwards and without preamble took Spike's cock into his mouth. Spike gasped and one of his hands immediately shut up backwards, grabbing hold of the headboard.

Xander took hold of the base of Spike's cock with his hand, and slid his mouth over the length and down as far as he could go without swallowing. He pulled back, adding pressure with his lips and swept down again, all the while gently massaging Spike's cock at the base. He let his tongue run in circles around the foreskin and felt how it rolled back and exposed the shiny spongy head. His hand let go and cupped the balls now, sliding over and around them in random motions. He broadened his tongue and pressed the head up against the roof of his mouth, sucking gently. Spike was panting and whimpering now. He could feel Spike shift and he lifted his eye and was met by Spike's eyes staring back at him, pupils dilated. Spike' lips were parted and Xander could see the tip of his tongue darting out to lick them. Spike had risen halfway up and was now perched on his elbows. "Mmmm," Xander hummed and smiled around Spike's cock and Spike groaned and collapsed back down onto the bed, his whole body shaking. Xander increased the speed a little, swooping up and down and finally swallowed Spike all the way before pulling back again. "Argh," Spike uttered gutturally and Xander felt Spike's hands burrow into his hair and grip on tightly as his hips lifted from the bed, forcing himself even deeper into Xander's throat. "Gonna come!" he cried out in a hoarse voice and Xander grabbed one of the hands in his hair and squeezed it as he continued his bobbing and sucking and swallowing motions, never slowing down. With a groaning wail, Spike came, his cold spunk squirting down Xander's throat. Feeling Spike's cock pulse in his mouth and throat and Spike's hips spasm under him brought Xander over the top and he came as well with a gurgled roar. He bucked and squirted his semen all over the sheets and Spike's shin, gasping around Spike's cock still twitching in his mouth in post orgasmic spasms.

He kissed and licked Spike's softening cock and used an end of the sheets to dry off his own cum and moved himself upwards to lie down next to Spike. He cupped Spike's face again and kissed him softly and looked into his eyes.

"Love you," he whispered and gathered up the comforters to pull them over both of their bodies, shifting a bit until they were pressed up against one another and covered under the soft fabric that was swiftly warming.

"You do, don't you?" Spike whispered back in wonder.

Xander pulled him close and kissed his brow.

"Yeah, I really do."

Spike made a small sound in the back of his throat and snuggled closer. Xander smiled. It was a funny thing how rescuing somebody, you could end up rescuing yourself.

 _ **The end**_ **  
**


End file.
